


In Spite of All Obstacles

by thegreatwordologist



Series: ColorTales [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Character Development, ColorTales, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Father Figure Grillby, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, POV Third Person, Pre-Frisk, Purple Human Soul, Slow Burn, character exploration, kid!Undyne, physical affection, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatwordologist/pseuds/thegreatwordologist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Frisk, other humans fell. Other humans explored; other humans made connections. Before Frisk, something caused Sans not to care... and it was another human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Good Joke Deserves Another

**Author's Note:**

> This work is set in the time before Frisk, and explores the way the Undertale characters become the people we all know and love. If you have any questions about anything that seems OOC, you're welcome to post an ask at [the tumblr](http://colortales.tumblr.com/) I made for this purpose.
> 
> I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my beta-reader/brainstorming partner: [The Adorable Occult](http://theadorableoccult.tumblr.com/). She's awesomeness incarnate.

"You do not have to leave, my child." The soft words bounced off the stone of the hallway and floated back to Amalia's ears, underscored by the soft padding of her rubber-soled shoes on the floor. The way the plea hung in the air between the two of them broke Amalia's heart, but as she looked up at the goat-woman, she could see that even Toriel understood that it was in vain. 

"I do have to leave, Toriel," she said softly, and reached out without hesitation to rest a hand on Toriel's furred arm. "I have to go home someday. We both know that. It wouldn't be fair to my family if I abandoned them for a new family, after all." The words drew a pained sound from Toriel's throat, and she caught Amalia's shoulder in one large hand, tugging the teen to her. Amalia didn't hesitate to nestle against Toriel, seeking comfort in the hug.

"I know, my child," she whispered, stroking Amalia's blonde hair slowly. "I know. You are such a good girl. Your parents must miss you terribly." She fell silent as Amalia stayed against her for a long minute. When Amalia stepped back, Toriel let her go. Their eyes met, dark brown locked with deep blue, and then her shoulders sagged. Toriel stepped back, reached into a hidden pocket in her robe, and withdrew a small bag that clinked and a wedge wrapped in cloth. "For your journey, my child," she murmured, as Amalia took the items gingerly.

"Oh, Toriel... you didn't have to...," the girl started, and Toriel held up a large hand to silence her.

"Of course I did. What sort of monster would I be if I let you start your journey without giving you something to help you along?" She nodded to the pouch of coins as Amalia tucked it away. "It is not much, my child, but if you are careful, you should be just fine. The pie will tide you over until you have found other food to eat. Please don't let it go to waste."

"I won't," Amalia whispered, staring down at the wedge for a moment before putting that, too, in the small bag she wore over her shoulder. "Toriel... I'll never forget you," she finally whispered, looking up at the goat-woman again.

"I will not forget you, either, Amalia," Toriel promised gently, reaching for a final hug before turning toward the massive door. "But... please, child. When you leave, do not come back. I can only bear so much heartache."

Amalia winced, clutching her notebook to her chest and pushing her glasses onto her nose a little more firmly. As Toriel reached out to push the door open, it scraped across the stone floor in a grating hiss that dragged at Amalia's heart. When Toriel stopped, Amalia made her way to the opening, then turned back, staring at Toriel.

"Like I said," she whispered, then frowned and swallowed, squaring her shoulders a little. The second time she spoke, the words came out a little stronger, a little firmer. "I'll never fur-get you." Amalia's lips curled in a miserable smile, willing Toriel to understand the joke. If she could just make the goat-woman laugh, the parting wouldn't hurt so much, surely.

After a beat, Toriel chuckled weakly. "Oh, my child," she sighed finally. Amalia stood still, just waiting, and after a minute, her patience was rewarded. "Fur-well to you. Be good."

That was the end of it. Amalia turned and stepped through the opening, and behind her, stone dragged against stone as the door slid shut once more. Beyond the door was a path of snow and cold that stretched on beside a dark forest, and with only one apparent direction to go, Amalia squared her shoulders and set off, trying to banish the sound of stone sliding against stone by focusing on the crunch of snow under her shoes.

\---

By the time she reached the first waystation, the cold was creeping through her sweater, and Amalia was grateful for the bag over her shoulders. The path there had been long and silent, the trees close-set enough to stop her from wandering too far off the path. It seemed to be a pretty straight shot, although Amalia wasn't entirely sure what her destination was. As a bit of wind caught her, Amalia flinched and ducked behind the wall of the small building. 

Inside the structure, Amalia found a small shelf with a bottle and a sign. She reached for the bottle, then hesitated, pulling her hand back as she read the sign slowly. "For non-ice citizens." Amalia sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. 

"Maybe no one will notice?" she told herself softly, then flinched. In the silence, even her murmured words were far too loud. "I'll just take a little," she finally added, as though speaking aloud might give her words more weight. Her hand reached for the bottle once more, and as her fingers closed around it, she realized it was warm to the touch. "Here goes," she hummed, then tipped the bottle up to her mouth, easing a few drops onto her tongue and swallowing. That done, she sat down, tucking herself against the wall as she waited to see what would happen.

After several long minutes, Amalia realized that she was starting to feel warm again. "That makes sense," she finally murmured, looking down at her hands in bemusement. When she'd sought shelter in the station, they'd been shaking and red, but now, they looked... normal. Reaching for the bottle again, Amalia examined the glass, tilting it left and right so that the liquid within sloshed about, then held it up to her eye. The fluid, dark when collected in the bottle, revealed a world clad in orange hues, and Amalia grinned. 

"Orange, hmm? I guess that makes sense. At least, it makes as much sense as anything does in this place," she murmured, tugging her notebook out and digging for a pencil. For a few minutes, the silence of the forest and the bite of the cold faded into the background as she sketched the waystation, described the shelf and bottle, and explained what drinking the liquid had done. Only once she'd finished did she rise. Looking out into the frozen forest, Amalia hesitated, then reached for the bottle. She sipped a little more, then put it back, resisting the temptation to slip the whole thing into her bag. Wherever she was headed, she could make it. 

She would be fine.

\---

"It has to be late," Amalia whispered, reaching up to rub at her eyes with one chilled hand and sighing. She was starting to shiver a bit, but the pathway had finally widened out, with a sign hanging between two posts to one side. It read "Welcome to Snowdin." Amalia swallowed, looking beyond the sign and breathing a soft whimper of relief as she saw a couple of warmly-lit buildings. Above one door, the word 'Shop' was etched in a nice wooden frame, while the other bore the title "Inn." Suddenly grateful for the small bag of money Toriel had given her, Amalia fished it out of her bag and dug through it, counting up her funds.

"Okay, that should be enough for a room, I think," she whispered, biting her lip as she opened the door and stepped into the small lobby. A wall of warmth enveloped her as she stood there, and the change in atmosphere soothed her enough that when she looked over at the bunny behind the counter, she didn't even blink.

"Welcome to Snowed Inn, Snowdin's premier hotel." The cheerful tone drew Amalia toward the counter. "Would you like a room? It's only 80g for the night." Amalia flinched, looking down at the pouch of coins before returning her attention to the bunny again.

"Do you give discounts for longer stays?" she murmured softly, biting her lip, and the bunny blinked before smiling warmly at her. The innkeeper's eyes flitted down to the bag in her hands, and then blinked before looking back up. She remained quiet as she evaluated Amalia before finally speaking. 

"Tell you what," she said, gesturing to the bag. "I'll let you stay for a week for 80g." One finger danced close enough to the bag to just brush against the white pattern of triangles and circle against the purple background, and Amalia sagged in relief, fishing out the money.

"Thank you very much," she murmured, counting out coins before handing them over to the innkeeper. "Do you... happen to know where I could get something to eat?" With the warmth and bed out of her way, Amalia was starting to realize just how hungry she really was. She tucked the bag back into her pocket and looked up at the bunny once more, grinning when she realized the rabbit was smiling right back at her.

"Grillby's is a good place," she finally said. "Hot food and good company there, always. Go ahead and go get yourself something to eat, my dear. Your room's all set." She sounded so warm that Amalia hesitated, then looked back at her. 

"...Would you like me to bring something back? I mean, if they do takeout at all," she stammered, only to be answered by a dismissive wave. 

"No. I'm good today. But thank you for the offer," she added, her eyes as soft as her fur. "You just go enjoy the best cooked food between here and New Home!"

Amalia wanted to ask what New Home was, wanted to push for more answers, more information about her journey, but instead of doing any of that, she simply smiled back at the rabbit before stepping out of the inn to find Grillby's.

\---

For a moment, she stood outside Grillby's, staring at the way her shoes sank into the snow, then looking up at the sign above the door for a long minute. It wasn't like the inn. There were going to be monsters in the pub: ones she wouldn't recognize. Amalia wanted to prepare herself, but... how could she prepare herself when she had no idea what she was going to see? The dilemma ate at her, and she clutched her notebook tight against her chest before finally pushing the door in. It swung in without a sound, just heavy enough to stop without hitting the wall, and Amalia hesitated nervously as she scanned the room.

Just as she'd expected, the place was pretty full, with only one seat obviously open. She looked at the red bird on one side, and the skeleton on the other, and then squared her shoulders. "Just like Toriel showed me," she whispered to herself, and stepped into the pub, striding directly to the open barstool before someone could claim it. Standing just behind it, she looked between the bird and skeleton, and then spoke up. "Is this seat taken?" She didn't direct the words specifically to either of them. In response, the bird just flapped a wing. 

The skeleton, however, glanced over. Pinpricks of light floated in his dark sockets as he considered her. Despite the wide smile on his face, Amalia had the odd sense that he was sizing her up. Then the moment was gone, and his smile grew even wider. "Have a seat," he invited, reaching for a bottle of ketchup. As she eased onto the stool, the skeleton upended the bottle into his mouth, and she realized he was drinking it.

"You must... really like your ketchup," she said tactfully, eyeing the faint red tint to his smile before adding, "Or were you just bone-dry?" His head snapped around, and Amalia tensed. Toriel had always liked her jokes, but the teen was suddenly wondering if she'd just destroyed any hope of a good first impression on this skeleton.

"Heh. That's a good one," he finally laughed. "My brother'd like that a lot." They fell silent as Amalia fished in her purse, pulling out the money she could spare for a bit of food before looking for the bartender. When she looked back up, the skeleton was watching her. "You're new in town, ain'tcha?"

Amalia nodded slowly, reaching up to adjust her glasses. With her attention back on the skeleton, she didn't notice the bartender until he arrived in front of her. At first, it was the warmth that pulled her eyes back from the skeleton. As her eyes settled on the bartender, Amalia's hands tightened against her notebook. Her body was rigid, one leg extending to the floor for footing to run. A fire elemental ran the bar... A fire elemental ran the...

"Hey, kid." For a skeleton with such a wide smile, there was a lot of edge in the words. Amalia whipped her head around, still clutching her notebook to her chest as though it might protect her, or perhaps to protect it. She wasn't really sure. "You just gonna stare, or you gonna order something?" She wasn't prepared for the way her throat closed up as she stared at her neighbor before turning her attention back to the fire elemental.

"Sorry," she finally murmured, her voice soft and ashamed as she tried to figure out how to salvage the situation. "I... um... don't suppose you make burgers?" Even just saying the words eased her nerves. There was no great eruption from either of them about her rudeness. The rest of the bar hadn't exploded into fire and anger. Perhaps... perhaps...

Before the thought could resolve itself, she felt the brush of fingers against her torso as the skeleton curled his hand around her notebook and tugged. "That's... that's mine," she murmured, and he grinned at her, the white glow in his eyes somehow warmer.

"Yeah, I know. But it's easier to read if you don't hold it quite so close, right? Grillby won't burn it. Your paper's safe with us." Reluctantly, she loosened her grip, and he pulled the notebook free. Rather than leafing through the pages, however, he simply set it down between them on the counter. "So, you're clearly playing things close to the chest," he added, pausing briefly for her to take in the joke before he continued, "but maybe we could start with introductions? I'm Sans. You?"

The acerbic tone to his voice was completely gone. If anything, sympathy and kindness had overtaken it, and she offered him a faint smile in return. "I'm Amalia. I'm sorry I caused a scene," she couldn't resist adding, which Sans laughed away.

"Don't be. Everything's fine. Grillby's is the best place in town, really, and there's always someone to talk to." The elemental set a plate down in front of Amalia, and she blinked down at the hamburger, a little stunned. It was massive, and looked incredibly juicy. "Plus, he makes burgers that are better than anything," Sans added as he grinned over at Grillby. With shaking hands, Amalia reached to pick up the burger. It was just a shade off being too hot to hold, and as she bit into it, the flavors exploded in her mouth. There was the bun, toasted crisp without being too hard to handle. There was the meat, grilled to perfection. The lettuce was crisp. The tomato was sweet and juicy. "Told ya," he added with a smirk at her wide eyes.

Silence stretched between them as Amalia got her bearings once more - and then she looked over at Sans. "You said there were plenty of people around to talk to," she noted quietly, and when he nodded, she continued. "Does that mean this would be a good place to ketchup with the local news?" She downplayed the joke, and was rewarded by a bark of laughter from the skeleton.

"Oh, that's a good one. Nicely done," he nodded, stretching one arm on the counter and using it to prop his head up as he watched her in appreciation. "I guess if you're thinking that way, you've decided we pass mustard?"

"Don't be too salty," Amalia countered, enjoying the way his grin widened. "I wouldn't want you to get all fired up." For a moment, it felt like she was back with Toriel, and even as she smiled at Sans, she felt a faint pang in her heart. Strange, the way she felt more sadness over leaving Toriel than she did at the memory of her family.

"Eat your burger before it cools off," Sans advised after a bit, his brow-ridge furrowed in a way that somehow broke all the laws of biology and made perfect sense to her. "Between bites, you can pepper me with questions, if you like."

"Okay then," Amalia said, pulling her attention away from the memory to focus on her food and companion. "Let's start with how big Snowdin is..."

\---

"So describe your brother to me?" Amalia asked, as she stepped out of the pub and back into the snow. After the impromptu dinner with Sans, the skeleton had insisted on walking her back to the inn, despite how close it was, and Amalia found herself reluctant to part ways with him so quickly. Something about Sans felt comfortable, and she turned to look down at the short skeleton as he moved to stand beside her.

"Well, that's a pretty tall order," he noted, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. "But then, that's just 'cause I wouldn't want to short-change him." 

She snorted. "So clearly he's taller than you," she guessed, and was rewarded with a bright, approving shine to his eyes.

"Good job. Any other observations to share?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

"Bonely that he's probably a skeleton like you?" she murmured, watching him rather than the path. The conversation had held her attention, and when her foot came down on an icy patch, she wasn't expecting it. She yelped, sliding a little as she fought to keep her balance. Sans' hand shot out, gripping her elbow tightly. The sight of fingerbones curled around her sleeve, with nothing visibly holding them together, stopped her in her tracks.

There was silence, and Sans lifted his hand. As he released her arm, she made a soft sound, and his brow-bones furrowed once more. "Something wrong? I didn't hurtcha, did I?"

"No," she murmured, eyes still locked on his fingerbones. She finally looked up and caught the worry in his eyes. "No, I'm sorry. It was just... You have nice hands."

That made him start, and he spread one hand, looking down at the fingers thoughtfully before chuckling. "Never expected you to be a fan," he admitted, letting his hand drop to his side again. His shoulders hunched down a bit, and she hesitated before reaching out to rest a hand very lightly against one shoulder-bone. As he looked up in surprise, she smiled gently.

"I really am okay. I wasn't upset that you caught me," she explained, her voice soft and serious - and somehow gentle. "It was more... I've never really looked at a skeleton before. I didn't expect your finger bones to be so delicate or white. The color looked nice with my purple shirt, that's all."

"Heh," Sans muttered, reaching up to sheepishly scratch the back of his skull. They reached the inn and stopped in front of it, neither one really looking up at it. They almost seemed to be avoiding the sight. "If you say so, kid. But, uh... if you ever need a hand..."

Amalia hesitated, then fished out the phone in her pocket and held it out to him. "Then I know just who to call," she murmured, as he took the phone and added his number to it.

"Yeah, kid. You know exactly who to call," he agreed, watching as she slipped inside the door to the lobby before sighing and turning to go. "...A real joker, there," he whispered to himself, as his feet crunched in the snow, leaving bone-tracks. "I'll have to tell Papyrus about her."


	2. Not Yet In Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feet taste good with ketchup... right?

"Hi, Grillby," Amalia murmured as she slipped into the bar, grateful it appeared to be open at any time. It might be because there didn't seem to be much difference between day and night in the Underground, but even so, the crowd from the night before had thinned out. Indeed, there were only two other monsters when Amalia slid onto a stool, digging out her purse and tugging out a few coins. "May I have some breakfast? Cook's choice?"

For a moment, the fire elemental simply stood there. Then he nodded briefly and moved to take the coins from her before wandering off to cook her food. It didn't take him all that long to set a plate of steaming eggs and toast in front of her, and Amalia smiled softly, using her fork to pile the eggs on top of a piece of toast before taking a bite. When she managed to swallow, she looked over at him. "It's delicious, thank you!" Grillby said nothing, but there were a couple of sparks and cracks from his fire, and she assumed that was his response.

Her eyes dropping back down to her plate, Amalia prepared another bite as she considered the day before. "Hey Grillby?" she asked, glancing up at him before her attention returned to the food. "Tell me about Sans? He seems pretty nice, but all he talks about is his brother. Does he have someone else around? Someone other than his brother, I mean?" 

There was a soft hiss, rather like a flame hit with drops of water, and Amalia looked up to see Grillby leaning over her. If the way his glasses glinted was any indication, he was glaring at her, and she found herself shrinking back slightly, her eyes wide. "I... I didn't mean anything by it, Grillby," she hastened to assure the fire elemental, then stiffened as a casually jovial voice floated to her from behind.

"Didn't mean anything by what, kiddo? You say something wrong to Hot Stuff here?" There it was again, that hint of an edge to the voice that she'd heard before. Amalia jerked her head around wildly. Had she thought the voice was casual? Staring into Sans' eyes, she realized that if it had been, it had been an act, and she clenched her hands together in worry. 

"I don't think so," she blurted out, so desperate to get the whole thing cleared up that she didn't stop to think about what she was saying. "I wasn't even talking about him! I was asking about you. I was asking about if you were alone since you only... ever... talk...." As her brain caught up with what she was saying, Amalia froze, then jerked her eyes to the floor, willing it to open and swallow her. "Oh god," she whispered softly, more to herself than anyone else.

A second later, however, a single fingertip curled under her chin, urging her head up so that her eyes could meet Sans'. She put off looking at him for as long as she could, her cheeks glowing a bright red, then finally accepted that he wasn't giving up. As her eyes met his, he smirked lazily. "I don't mean to rib ya, but you're almost as red as Grillby there. A little hot under the collar?"

And that just made it worse. "I didn't mean it that way." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could call them back, but she didn't want to call them back. She wanted to explain so that he'd understand. She wasn't like that. She wasn't that sort of girl! "It's just... what about your parents? Or," she started to add, but the way his eyes narrowed stopped her cold.

He stared at her like that for long minutes, his fingertip still under her chin, bone poking gently into the vulnerable flesh there as he considered her words. And then he sighed, and moved to take the seat beside her. "Just me and Papyrus," he said after a minute. "We don't need any other family than that." 

Well, that told her everything. She turned on the stool, staring down as she poked at her eggs. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to... I mean... I wasn't trying to," she started, and Sans cut her off, his voice low but still a little harsh.

"You did mean to. You said it outright, didn't you?" 

...Wait. What?

"Said what outright?" Confused, she looked over at Sans, noting distantly that Grillby was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful he'd given them their privacy, or worried about how dangerous Sans might be, if a fire elemental was afraid of him.

"About my parents," Sans replied, his eyes pinpricks of white that seemed to bore into her. "It's a touchy subject."

Amalia blinked, startled by the words. "No! I mean, it's obvious that you're fine. I wasn't... I didn't want you to think I was hitting on you!" she tried to explain, and it was Sans who straightened, eyes wide and pupils flaring into larger orbs of white.

"You were hitting on me?" he blinked, and a distant part of Amalia, the part that wanted to escape from the entire conversation, focused desperately on the action, because how did skeletons actually blink?!

"No! No, I wasn't! I'm not that kind of girl," she said, echoing her previous thought, and suddenly Sans was grinning widely. The anger she'd seen in his face, felt in his body - it was just a distant memory.

"No idea what that means," he said casually, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. "But seems like we got off on the wrong foot today, huh, kiddo?"

Amalia curled her arms on the counter, staring down at her plate of eggs as she nodded slowly. After a moment, she felt a skeletal hand on her sleeve. Looking over, she saw Sans watching her compassionately.

"Tell you what. Finish your breakfast, and then I'll shoe you around town." For his pun, he got a weak smile and a nod, and Amalia turned back to her plate, feeling a little better.

\---

"And that's my home," Sans noted, gesturing to a rather nice two-story affair with an igloo between it and the small shack beside it. Amalia curled her arms around herself, and made a move toward the door, only to be stopped by a skeletal hand. "Nah, I think we'll pass on that today, okay? I wasn't exactly expecting company, after all." His eyes twinkled with humor, and Amalia laughed softly, nodding as she stepped back onto the path.

"Afraid I'm going to find the skeletons in your closet?" she asked softly, and earned a laugh for her effort. It was becoming easier and easier to relax around him again. In some ways, he reminded her of Toriel, though she couldn't put her finger on quite why he did. 

"No skeletons in there," he snorted, amusement in his eyes. "But I can't hang out at home all day. Gotta go to work sometime, after all." He paused, taking in the curiosity on her face, then laughed. "It's not real exciting, but you can come along, if you like?" 

"As long as we can stop at the inn first?" she asked, and Sans nodded, pointing to the igloo. "I want to get my notebook," she explained, though he hadn't questioned the request. 

"Takin' notes on us?" he asked lazily, following her into the dark tunnel below Snowdin. The dim light of the tunnel made her faintly uneasy, and she reached out to the wall with one hand. The moment her fingers brushed against a mushroom, it squeaked, and a pathway lit up in a soft blue glow.

Amalia stopped, watching as the pathway slowly dimmed, and then reaching out to poke the mushroom with a delicate tap. Once more the pathway flared to light, and as she looked down the tunnel, she realized she could see other mushrooms glowing along the way. "Oh, wow," she breathed softly, so entranced at the sight that Sans had to clear his throat twice before she realized he was waiting on an answer. "Sorry, I just... this is beautiful, Sans," she murmured, a wide smile on her face as she looked back at him. "What were you saying?"

"I was askin' about your notebook. What are you usin' it for?" he asked, nodding toward the path pointedly. Amalia began to walk slowly, her eyes returning to the glowing grass and mushrooms rather than Sans, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Taking notes. I can't exactly just ignore this place," she pointed out, finally looking over at him with earnest eyes. "How am I supposed to get back home if I just... no, I need to learn everything I can." As she spoke, the lights in Sans' eyes narrowed, and she slowed to a stop. "Sans? What is it? I didn't say something else wrong, did I?"

"What are you gonna do with the information, kiddo?" he asked, and this time there was no mistaking his voice for casual. "You said you were tryin' to get back home, right? Back to the humans?" At his side, his hands had curled into fists, and he stared down at them distantly for a moment before forcing them to flex open. Amalia looked over at him in confusion.

"I can't live here forever," she pointed out softly, biting her lower lip. "And if we can... I don't know... learn about each other enough, then maybe you could stop hiding down... here...." One hand slammed out, knocking her against the wall of the tunnel and landing just beside her, blocking her from getting away that direction. Her heart hammering wildly from the surprise, she twisted the other way, and his other hand landed on that side. And then he was leaning in, his forehead nearly brushing hers as he stared at her with eyes flared a bright blue.

"You think we're hiding, kid?" he asked, the words soft and menacing as they ghosted against her skin. She pressed back against the cold stone of the tunnel. "Is that why you think we're down here? 'Cause we're some sorta fraidy-cats?"

"Sans, what did I say?" Amalia whispered softly, her hands spread against the stone and every muscle tensing as she prepared to barrel past him, because it was either run or fight, and fighting was definitely out of the picture.

"Explain to me exactly what you meant. And go real slow," he directed, without moving. "Wouldn't want you to stick your foot in your mouth like earlier." Even as he spoke, his eyes were flaring brighter, until they were almost blinding to stare into. Even so, Amalia forced herself to hold his gaze, willing him to see her fear and confusion.

"What I meant," she whispered, then drew a breath. "Okay, I don't know what you're looking for, but I'll try. I... fell down here, and I don't understand why you're down here. Maybe you're... scared? I guess I thought that," she added hastily when she saw those bright circles narrow further and flare brighter. "I'm wrong, clearly I'm wrong, but I don't know..."

Her throat choked up, and he growled in faint frustration, his fingertips scraping along the stone as his hands curled into fists. "Kid, I'm tryin' real hard not to lose my temper, but you need to help me. What. don't. you. know?" he pressed, pleased that the words came out even instead of as ragged as he'd expected.

"I don't know anything," Amalia finally blurted out, closing her eyes and flinching. "I don't know why you're here, or why Toriel would help me, or why you showed me around, or why going back to the humans is so bad, or why I made you so angry, or why...." Her eyes closed, she would've continued to babble had he not set a fingerbone against her mouth, stopping her. 

She didn't know. 

The anger drained, his eyes dimming until they were just the white that they always were, and he sighed deeply. "God, kid, you don't know anything, do you?"

"I'm trying to learn!" Amalia protested, her lips moving against his fingerbone, and he tapped her mouth once to get her to stop. His eyes locked with hers, and for several silent seconds they simply stood there like that, as he calmed down. When he finally lifted his finger, she swallowed, then lifted a hand to rub roughly at her mouth before nodding slowly.

"I won't tell anyone about you if that's what your people want, Sans. If you need to h... to protect yourselves down here, I don't want to jeopardize that," she whispered. "I just... there's a lot to this place, and if I don't learn, how am I going to keep from screwing up the way I did with you?" 

He sighed, then turned away from her, a breath dragging through him before he waved at her. "Get your notebook. We're gonna go to my station, and once we're there, we're gonna have a history lesson, capiche?" He expected her to fight the command, but she simply nodded, edging away from him and starting off at a pace fast enough that he had to jog a bit just to stay even with her. 

\---

Sans' station wasn't far from the edge of Snowdin, but the trek toward Toriel's home made Amalia tense, and she was grateful when Sans nodded to a place not too far off the path. "Right there, kid," he said quietly, looking up at her. The walk to the station hadn't been long, but with the silence stretching between them awkwardly it dragged out, so that when the respite finally came, Amalia couldn't quite believe it.

She waited until Sans was settled in his chair at the station, then moved to sit in the chair beside him, setting her notebook on the small counter the building afforded. It was cozy with the two of them sitting side by side, but not so cramped that they were pressed against each other. Amalia snuck a peek at Sans, then bit her lip and moved to open her notebook to a clean page. As she flipped through pages she'd already used, Sans reached out, catching her wrist and stopping her on a sketch of Grillby.

"That's not bad, kid," he muttered, leaning closer so that he had a better view of the notes she'd written below the sketch. "'Doesn't like to talk?' You really gotta start asking someone about these assumptions you keep makin', before they getcha hurt." Amalia tensed, but Sans patted her arm, then withdrew his hand. "I'm not upset this time, don't worry. It's just that Grillby likes to talk just fine. He's a fire elemental; he talks a whole lot. You just don't understand him because your ears don't hear words, they hear fire."

"You said we were going to have a history lesson," Amalia finally answered, reaching to turn the pages without commenting on Grillby, and Sans sighed quietly.

"Yeah, I did. But it's important that you pay attention to monsters, too. At least, it is if you're serious about learnin' about 'em," he added, lacing his fingers together and resting them at the bottom of his sternum.

She thought about what he said for a moment before looking over at him. "After the history, I'll let you look at the whole notebook," she finally offered softly. "You can correct anything I've got wrong?" She stared down at the blank page, then prepared her pencil before looking over at him. 

"That'll work," Sans finally agreed softly. "You ready to take your notes?" He waited for Amalia to nod, then began to speak softly. The sound didn't carry beyond the small station the two were crammed into, as though Sans didn't want to shatter the peace of the forest around them. "A long time ago, there was a war. I mean, I don't think we were buddies with the humans, but we got along okay, at least. But... stuff happened." He held up a hand when Amalia seemed ready to interrupt, and shook his head.

"Not gonna talk about that part, kid," he said firmly. "Don't ask." When he was satisfied that Amalia was listening again, he nodded. "So anyway, the war happened. It was a bad time - deaths on both sides, anger just makin' it worse, and the humans finally got their mages together and forced us into a corner. Well, into a mountain, really," he snorted, reaching up to scratch the back of his skull. "They blocked us in here. Not a single one of us could leave."

"What if you all worked together?" Amalia asked, very softly, then flinched at the wry look Sans gave her. He groaned.

"Relax, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you unless you do something really stupid. Asking questions? That's pretty much the opposite of stupid in my book." He closed his mouth, then chuckled. "I mean, as long as you think about 'em first. Stupid questions still count as being stupid. Capiche?"

"Got it," Amalia murmured, straightening just a bit before setting her shoulders. "So... you did try working together?" she asked, and Sans nodded slowly.

"Yeah. We just bounced right off. I mean, it coulda been a lot worse. Barrier could've actually hurt someone, but those mages had some mercy, at least. So... we're stuck down here, trapped by a barrier we can't cross, and the king got everyone together. At first, we all thought that he was just gonna make us wrap our power up together to penetrate the Barrier, but... what?" he trailed off, frowning as he caught sight of Amalia's wide-eyed stare.

"You keep saying 'we'," she pointed out softly, and he huffed a bitter laugh.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I was there. So was Papyrus, actually, though he wasn't old enough to do much of anything at that point."

"Sans, how old are you?" Amalia whispered, staring at him in confusion. "You said that was a long time ago."

"I don't know, kid. I mean, by skeleton standards, I'm still pretty young. Not far out of school, if that makes any sense to you? But I don't know how that equates to human lifespan," he shrugged.

"Are all monsters so long-lived?" Amalia murmured, as she flipped back a couple of pages to scribble a note, and Sans caught a glimpse of a round skull sketched in one corner. 

"No, but we're not here for biology, kid. Remember, History Class is still in session." He eyed her pointedly, and she simply huffed, turning back to the page she was using for her history notes. "Any questions so far?"

"Do you know the king, then?" Amalia asked quietly, and Sans shook his head.

"Nah, not like you mean. Everyone in the Underground knows of him, of course, but he's off doing kingly things. He doesn't pal around with people like me. I figure that's a good thing, too," he added with a wink. At his side, hidden by his chair, one hand clenched into a fist. "I'm busy enough as it is."

"Okay, okay," she chuckled softly, looking up at him with softer eyes as the atmosphere eased further. "So he got you all together, and you did... what? You said you didn't attack the Barrier," she murmured. "But if not that, why would he get you all together?"

"Better reason than that," he explained quietly. "See, if we couldn't leave here, he'd just make sure we could all have areas where we were comfortable. Some monsters don't like snow. Some don't like heat. Some don't like water. Catch my drift?"

"You mean... you're the reason it's like a whole world down here?" she asked, and was rewarded with a wider, gentler smile from Sans.

"Pretty much. Oh, not me alone. There were a bunch of us there. Pretty much everyone who was old enough and strong enough to do anything. Papyrus wanted to help, but we weren't sure if it'd work, or if it'd backfire, y'know? So I made him stay back. Took him weeks to forgive me for that," he laughed.

Amalia reached out, resting one hand on his arm delicately, and Sans jumped a little before looking at her. "I'm sorry I didn't understand. I thought you were just..."

"Hiding. Yeah, you said," he agreed, sighing and pulling his arm free. After a minute, he huffed. "So my turn to learn somethin'. How come you wanna learn about us so much? Just... what, survival? Or is there somethin' else behind it?"

She hesitated briefly, then squared her shoulders and turned to him fully. "It's not just survival, but it's not what you think, either," she explained quietly. "Whatever humans did to monsters... it was so long ago most of us don't even know about it anymore." When his eyes narrowed into a scowl, she edged back a little, but kept going. "I know that doesn't excuse anything, but humans don't live as long as you do. No one who's alive now is responsible for what happened to you."

"So... why then, Amalia? Why do you wanna learn about us so much?" he asked quietly, searching her face. 

Amalia stared down at her hands where they twisted over her notebook, distantly noting the way her cuticle was was just a bit off. Without thought, she moved to start picking at it with a nail, her mind still on how to talk to Sans about what she wanted. "I want... Toriel was really nice to me," she finally murmured, sighing as the flap of skin tugged free, blood edging up where she'd pulled it away. She didn't notice the pain. "She made me feel like a friend. It was a nice feeling, one I wouldn't mind feeling again. I thought... maybe all monsters were like her."

"You saying you want to be friends with us?" Sans repeated, his browbones drawn together in pained amusement. "We've gone through this whole song and dance because you couldn't come out and just say, 'Hey, you seem like a nice guy. Wanna be my friend?'"

As Amalia looked up at him, her expression was miserable, but there was still a game smile on her face. Whatever was going on, she wasn't giving up, and that said something about her. "I guess maybe one of my two left feet was stuck in my mouth?" she offered, then ducked her head. Beside her, Sans snorted.

"We gotta make some sorta rule about this," he finally decided. "Today was rough. I don't wanna revisit it any time soon, and you're pretty bad about eating those feet, aren'tcha?" When Amalia ducked her head and flinched, Sans just sighed. "Okay, so... it's rule time. From now on, you..." he started, then trailed off, unable to think of a way to stop her asking the wrong questions while still giving her a chance to ask the right ones.

"From now on," Amalia spoke up after a minute, catching his attention, "I put questions for you at the very back of the book." She held up her notebook. "Anything I think of, even if it might piss you off." His eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue, waiting to see how she got herself out of the danger zone. "If it's too personal, or it... sets you off the way today did... then you scratch it out. You don't have to answer. All you have to do is scribble it out. That way, I'll know to avoid that subject in the future, and you don't have to shove me against the wall."

Sans hesitated, then sighed explosively. "Okay. Okay, maybe reading them won't be quite as... It just might work," he conceded, holding out a hand.

Amalia frowned at him, and he laughed. "You did say I could read your notebook after the lesson," he noted. "I have to see what else you got wrong, after all." As she handed over the notebook, his eyes softened just a little. It was better when they were comfortable around each other. It was so much better.

\---

"You sure you don't want me to walk you back?" Sans asked, as he watched her. "I mean, I know it's not far, but..." 

"I'm not quite ready to go back yet," Amalia said softly. "And I know you have things to do. I'll be fine, Sans." She offered up a smile that he didn't really return. "I thought I'd go look at the forest some, that's all. Snow's really pretty, after all." 

She was doing that thing again, where she tucked her notebook to her chest, as though it were some sort of shield, and Sans wanted her to stop. It was a defensive gesture, a gesture that screamed out fear to him, and that kept him worried about her despite her confident voice. "If you won't let me walk you back," he compromised softly, "then... let's meet for dinner. Grillby's? You'll do that much for me, right?"

Amalia nodded, her eyes gentle as she looked down at him. "I'll probably be pretty hungry by then," she decided, and her arms eased back to her sides, the notebook still clutched in her left hand. "Did you... would you like to bring your brother?" she asked, tilting her head a little. "I'd like to meet him. He sounds like a really good guy, after all."

The light in Sans' eyes softened, and he grinned widely. "Yeah, sure. I'll bring Papyrus so you can meet him, too. He'll probably be pretty interested in getting to know you, as well. The two of you can compare notes," he added, nodding toward her notebook, and laughed at the resulting blush on her cheeks.

As he turned to go, Amalia reached out, catching his arm. Her fingers curled against bare bone, and let go almost immediately, though not quite fast enough to stop her from noticing how soft and smooth the bones were. "Sans," she murmured, when he paused without turning back to her. "Thank you. You didn't have to answer my questions and everything. But... it really helps that you were willing to. I'm glad things are better between us again."

"Me, too, kid," he agreed after a moment, starting to walk away without looking back. "Me, too." It was only when he saw the lights of home that he reached up, rubbing metacarpals and phalanges against his humerus to stop himself thinking of the way she'd reached out and touched his arm. It just felt... strange.

\---

It had been easy enough to ignore the cold while Sans was there, but left alone on the path, Amalia felt the chill settling in and sighed. She moved back to the station, searching out the bottle of dark orange liquid she knew must be there. A few drops, and the cold started to fade. With her attention turned away from the temperature, though, Amalia couldn't help but notice how silent it was, out in the forest. If she stared east, she could make out the faint shapes of Snowdin, but her eyes kept creeping back to the west, to the long, stretching pathway that led to the door.

"Don't come back," Toriel had said, but as Amalia stared down the path, she couldn't quite stop her feet from starting forward. Her hand reached into her pocket and fished out her phone, and she stared down at it silently, unaware that her feet were still carrying her toward the great door and Toriel. When she finally did look up, she realized that Sans' station was nowhere near, and the lights of Snowdin were so distant that she couldn't pick them out against the snow and shadows. 

"I should go back," Amalia whispered to herself, one hand lifting to push her hair behind one ear, and then she looked back down at her phone and notebook before shaking her head. "Maybe... just one visit? I could tell her I've made a friend," she reasoned, and squared her shoulders as she set back off. Surely Toriel wouldn't be angry that she visited once... right?

The thought of Toriel angry made Amalia wince a little, but it didn't stop her. As she continued walking, she tugged her notebook open, flipping to the page with the sketch of Toriel and reading the sparse notes she had on the goat-woman. "You'd like Sans, Toriel," she whispered to herself, trying to stave off the clenching pain in her chest. The words didn't really help it go away, but they did give her something else to focus on as she finally caught sight of the door looming in the distance.

"Yeah, you'd like him a lot. I mean, he's got some issues, but... who doesn't?" Her breath hitched at that, and she closed the notebook, pressing it against her chest as though it could somehow make her feel better. Her hand lifted, adjusting her glasses, and she glanced behind her, almost expecting to see the skeleton just because she'd been talking about him. But no, there was no shadow behind her, no mark of footprints in the snow. She was alone.

"I bet he'd love you," she added as she drew close to the door. "He'd like your pie, and your smile, and..." She stopped at the door, one hand lifting to splay against the cold stone, and the ragged breath she drew surprised her. Laughing miserably, she reached up to adjust her glasses again, and the feel of her tears against her fingers caught her off-guard. "I miss you, Toriel," she whispered. Her hand curled into a fist, and she knocked lightly, then a little harder.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if you noticed any glaring errors in this chapter. This chapter is unedited because both my beta-reader and I are in school and coming up to Finals, and we really need to focus on our grades. However, I felt bad leaving the story hanging when I knew I had chapters ready to go.
> 
> When my beta has gotten back to me with the chapter edits, I will be updating the chapter to fix anything she's found. And if you see anything that needs fixing, you're more than welcome to point it out, but I will likely save all edits until I've gotten back the comments from my beta.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience!


	3. Lashing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions speak louder than words.

The stone door had remained closed for the hours Amalia sat outside it. She tucked herself between a few close-grown trees, her eyes alternating between the door and her notebook. After nearly an hour, she’d pulled out her phone and tried calling Toriel. That, too, had been a waste of time, and every unanswered ring broke her heart a little more, so that when the tears came, they built slowly into wracking sobs.

Eventually, however, Amalia gave up. She still had quite some walking to do, and she’d promised dinner with Sans and Papyrus. “Toriel,” she whispered, trying one last knock against the stone door. Nothing happened.

Tucking her notebook into her shirt, Amalia picked up a large scoop of snow, waiting for it to melt in her palms before rubbing it over her face. The act washed away the tear tracks, and Amalia sighed, tugging out her notebook again. Perhaps if she thought about something else on the way back, something like Sans’ history lesson, or Grillby… it was worth a try.

And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, she’d pause along the path to add a note, or to refine a sketch a bit. Every time she did, the memory of sitting at that door, cold and alone, faded a little further into the background. By the time she reached the edge of Snowdin, she felt raw enough to keep her head down, notebook open so that no one would try to catch her attention, but also ready for dinner. Good food, a few jokes, and she’d finally be ready to move forward.

The sound of laughter nearby made her flinch, and Amalia tucked her face closer to her notebook, not wanting to be seen until she was ready – until she’d had time outside of Grillby’s to compose herself. She slowed a moment, then shook her head and picked up speed, eyes focused on the book until there was a movement of color just beyond her sight. 

She gasped, jerking back as the hand holding the notebook came up and lashed out. The notebook closed as it arced toward the monster, and when it connected, Gyftrot stumbled back a step, looking up at her with hurt eyes.

Amalia paled to white, dropping her notebook immediately as she took a step toward Gyftrot. Gyftrot’s eyes narrowed, and it hissed at her sharply. Amalia’s notebook lay forgotten in the snow as the two stared at each other, one set of eyes pleading and the other set furious.

\---

“Sans, I don’t like the idea of you hanging around with the human,” Papyrus said quietly, looking down at his brother in earnest worry. “And you cannot tell me you’ve forgotten what the humans did to us. If anything, you know better what to expect from them than I do. So why am I being the cautious one here?”

“She made a good point, bro,” Sans sighed, one hand curling into a fist at his side. “For humans, the war was a pretty long time ago. She doesn’t even know anything about it. And… she doesn’t seem like the type to hurt anyone. I mean, I pinned her to a wall, and she didn’t even fight back.”

“You pinned her to a wall?” Papyrus repeated slowly, his steps drawing to a stop as he looked over at Sans with a frown. “Sans, why would you pin her to a wall? What’s really going on?"

Sans stared back up at Papyrus for a long minute, then rubbed the back of his head. “She doesn’t know anything about this place,” he explained quietly. “She doesn’t get it. And yeah, she’s asking questions, but the way she words them sometimes…”

“She brings up painful subjects?” Papyrus hazarded gently. When Sans chuckled, he reached out to rest a hand on Sans’ shoulder. “But you're certain she doesn’t mean to harm anyone?”

“Well, yeah,” Sans nodded, looking away as he tried to find the words to explain. “She… it’s like she cares, Papyrus. But I’m not really sure what to make of it.”

“What do you want to make of it, Sans?” Papyrus asked, patting San’s shoulder before finally moving to walk again.

“Don’t really know,” Sans admitted, looking toward Grillby’s. “She’s easy to talk to, though. I kinda like that.” He saw Papyrus glance down at him, and chuckled. “Not as easy to talk to as you, don’t worry.” 

“Sans, I’m not worried about that. I’m not a child, after all. I’m worried about you. The way you speak of this human…”

“Hey, we can be friends, right?” Sans cut in, stopping once more to stare up at his brother. “We were friends with humans before, after all. It’s not like there’s a universal rule about it.” Papyrus’ eyes flicked down to Sans’ hands, noting the way they had curled into fists. “You don’t have to worry about me, Papyrus,” Sans added, and as he opened his mouth to continue, a movement near Grillby’s caught their attention.

Both sets of eyes looked over sharply, locking onto Amalia just in time to see her flail out, her notebook slapping against Gyftrot hard enough to make the poor creature stumble backward. As she took another step toward the monster, both brothers moved as one to intercede... or so Papyrus thought, until he realized that Sans had grabbed Amalia in his arms, and was holding her, his back to Gyftrot so that he could protect her. And Papyrus was wedged between them, drawing his attack back into himself rather than risk damaging Sans.

"Sans," he rasped out, hands closing into fists as he fought with himself. The girl was a danger. Sans himself had explained how much her questions hurt. She had even attacked Gyftrot right in front of them. And yet... still his brother protected her. "Sans," he said again, sharper than before, and Sans slowly unfolded, leaving a hand on her back as she remained kneeling on the ground.

"I'll meet you back at the house," Sans said quietly, black eyes looking up at Papyrus. Papyrus stared back at Sans in shock for a moment before a low growl of frustration slipped from him.

"Sans, as Head of the Royal Guard, I really must insist on this situation being resolved properly. This... girl attacked Gyftrot right in front of us. I cannot ignore that." Papyrus glanced down at Amalia as he gestured to her, then stopped. She was still kneeling in the snow, her arms curled around herself as she shook. It almost looked like... "...Are you sorry?" Papyrus breathed, too startled to hold the question back.

Sans started to answer, but the girl shook her head violently, tensing. A breath later, she struggled to her feet, completely ignoring Papyrus in favor of taking a step toward Gyftrot, and then bowing her head. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, the back of one hand lifting to scrub at tear-stained cheeks and her eyes locked on the snow at her feet.

"Papyrus," Sans commented quietly, moving to rest a hand on Papyrus' arm. Papyrus looked down at his brother, noting the soft blue glow in his eyes. "I meant what I said earlier."

Papyrus drew a slow breath as he heard Gyftrot's words of forgiveness. "I shall meet you back at the house, Brother. If this happens again, however, I will be forced to take measures." The warning was delivered gently, and Sans nodded in agreement.

"Got it, bro. I'm gonna calm her down so it doesn't." He stooped to pick up the notebook, dusting snow from the back cover before holding out a hand to her. As Papyrus turned away, he saw her take Sans' hand, her other hand reaching out to touch Gyftrot gently.

\---

Sans was silent for several steps before finally stopping, turning to face her. "Back to the inn?" he asked, his voice soft enough that it didn't carry far. Amalia glanced over at Gyftrot, then to Grillby's before her eyes sought Sans. 

"The tunnel?" she suggested quietly. The last time they'd been in there, it had been deserted. Deserted... and beautiful. She watched Sans frown, and turned to walk toward the igloo. As their hands broke apart, she felt herself tense, and to fight the urge to turn back, she closed the hand into a fist.

Sans finally sighed, moving to fall into step alongside her. "You've... got some questions then?" he asked, his voice still low. When she nodded, he huffed out a strained laugh. "That's gonna be our question place, isn't it?"

"It's a good question place," Amalia countered, flinching as she realized how weak and wavery her voice was. She swallowed and squared her shoulders. "No one else has to hear if I say something wrong, and you can... point me in the right direction," she noted. "Forcefully, if necessary," she added with a wry twist to her lips as she looked down at him.

A couple of steps later, she realized he'd stopped cold. Turning around, she saw his eyes flared blue, and she swallowed sharply. "Maybe... wait until the tunnel?" she asked, her heart in her throat at the sight.

Sans groaned. "Kid, we need to have a few talks, I think." He started to say more, then shook his head and pointed to the tunnel. "Let's go. You'll feel more comfortable down there, I guess." As she nodded, he looked down, remaining still for a moment more. But when he looked back at her, the glow in his eyes had faded, leaving only the pupils.

Amalia nodded sharply, turning and walking down into the darkness of the tunnel beneath Snowdin. At the bottom of the stairs down, she moved to the wall and sat down, her back against it, all without making any effort to find one of the mushrooms. It was Sans who finally lit the place, and when he saw her, he sighed, moving to sit beside her.

"Why'd you hurt Gyftrot?" he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. It was an awful place to start for the conversation, but really, where was he supposed to start? "I mean, you gotta have a reason, right? Even if it's a bad one?"

"It's a really bad one," Amalia finally admitted, her knees drawn up against her chest. "He startled me." She curled her shoulders a little closer to her knees. "I went back to see... I wasn't doing too well," she finally finished, when the name wouldn't come. "But I was supposed to meet you for dinner. I didn't want to worry you."

"So you... I'm not followin', kid," Sans frowned, tapping a phalange against his femur with staccato percussion. 

"I was trying to think about other things," she finally offered. "In the book. Things like Grillby, I mean. People. Whatever. I wasn't looking where I was going, and Gyftrot startled me."

"So you hit him," Sans frowned. 

"It's an instinct thing, I think," Amalia protested. "He was coming toward me, and I just... reacted. I didn't mean to hit him. I just wanted whatever was coming at me to not hit me. And I overreacted. He's okay, right?"

"Do you really care?" It was a harsh question, and one that Sans hadn't really intended to give voice to, but he wasn't going to call it back, either. What surprised him was the lack of an immediate protest to the question.

"I guess that's a fair question," Amalia finally said, her voice soft and somehow infinitely sad. "I... the truth is, I don't really know," she admitted. "I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone, but..."

"But?" Sans asked, his voice a little harder.

She twisted, turning to face the blackness where he sat. "I don't know that I'd rush to his side if he got sick," she said softly. "I don't know if we'd ever really be friends. I care if I hurt him, but I don't know if that counts as really caring." She hesitated, then reached out, her fingers brushing against a bone and then settling against it lightly. There was a faint tremor, but he didn't pull away. "I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but... you deserve the truth. Or at least, as much truth as I can figure out? It's a lot easier to just... not think about stuff like this."

He remained silent for several heartbeats, and then the bone under her fingers shifted, and she drew back a little. As she leaned against the wall again, his eyes began to glow faintly in the darkness. That light wasn't scary - not like the last time she'd seen his eyes glow in the tunnel - and when his hand lifted, she didn't flinch away from it. The cool bones settled against her cheek in a gesture that was meant to be either evaluating or comforting; she couldn't tell which. Regardless, she tilted her head, leaning slightly into the touch.

Her eyes closed slowly. She tucked herself closer to the wall, and felt him shift closer. After a moment, his hand dropped from her cheek to the hand in her lap, and delicate bones curled around her fingers lightly. The gesture was comforting and tender, and somehow hurt. 

"Your brother's probably right not to trust me," she whispered, and felt his fingers stutter against her skin in surprise. 

"Why?" he asked, frowning deeply. In the darkness, his eyes flared into a bright glow, but she didn't pull away in fear. 

"I'm a human." The words hurt, in an odd way. "It's... almost human nature to be awful to each other." 

"You're not like that, though," Sans said, and when she shuddered, he reached out, turning and drawing her against his rib-cage. It wasn't like snuggling with a human. There was no softness in the bones, but somehow, the gesture soothed her. "You're trying to be better than that, right?" 

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding against his sternum. In response, he threaded fingers through her hair, the bone tips scraping very lightly against her scalp. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Sans. Back with To... before I came to Snowdin, it seemed so easy to just be nice. But I keep messing up here."

"But you're trying to get better, right?" Sans whispered. Amalia nodded again. "Then things will get better. As long as you don't hurt anyone, I promise I'll help you." Amalia relaxed a little at the promise, nestling a little closer as Sans' arms settled around her. 

"Your brother probably won't like that," she pointed out, her words distant and calm, and Sans chuckled.

"Papyrus is very serious about his job," he explained quietly. "But he's good at seeing the best in people. If you're serious about not hurting monsters, he'll respect that. I know he will." 

"I am serious about it," Amalia affirmed softly. She pulled away, shivering a little as she felt his arms fall away from around her. She could've stayed there for hours, tucked against him as she drew comfort, but it wasn't right. "I can't hurt monsters... and I have to learn things for myself. I can't come to you every time something bothers me."

"No," Sans agreed, shifting to stare at the opposite wall. She could hear the tap of his bone against the stone wall as he leaned back. "But it's okay to ask for help from your friends. You know that, right?"

"Is that what we are?" As soon as the words were out, Amalia wished she could call them back. They were too needy, too pushy. Sans would answer with some flippant remark that hurt, she would hide the hurt, and they would both ignore that the question had ever really been asked.

...Except... "You're not sure, either, huh?" There was no flippancy in the question. "I'll tell you what," he finally added. "I'm going to go back home and check on Papyrus. You go back to the inn. Once I've talked to Papyrus tonight, I'll get us dinner, and bring it to you. We'll talk. We can decide about friendship after that." 

Amalia stood up, reaching out to feel for a mushroom. A moment later, the tunnel was awash in a soft blue glow, and she could see Sans standing near the entrance. She hesitated, then moved to stand before him. "If we're going to decide about friendship after dinner... then I'll think up some questions while you're with Papyrus. We should get to know each other better first, don't you think?"

Sans smiled widely, nodding as he turned toward the stairs. "I'll think of some for you, too," he promised, just before he slipped out into the light of Snowdin, and Amalia was left alone in the tunnel.

\---

"Papyrus?" Sans called out, as he entered the house, then realized he hadn't needed to even raise his voice. Papyrus rose from the couch, closing the book he'd been reading and setting it on the table near the door as he approached Sans. "Heya, bro," Sans smiled, his eyes flicking to the title of the book before back to Papyrus. "More strategy?"

"Did she have a reason for what she did, Sans?" Papyrus asked, folding his arms over his ribs and waiting. Sans recognized the carefully-neutral quality of his voice, mostly because he had used that same neutral tone with Amalia not an hour before.

"Not a great one, but it'll do," he shrugged, moving past his brother so that he could sit down on the couch. "Gyftrot surprised her, she said. She just reacted."

Papyrus' eyes dimmed slightly, narrowing as he followed Sans to the couch, sitting in one corner. "So it will happen again," he finally said, sympathy in his voice.

"Possibly," Sans agreed. "She didn't mean to, but..."

"But an accident that hurts someone still hurts someone, Sans," Papyrus pointed out sharply. "The safety of the Underground is my responsibility. You know that. I have to protect you and the others." Papyrus eyed Sans for a moment, then sighed. "Especially you. What if she had reacted that way to you, instead of Gyftrot."

"I'm faster than that, bro," Sans waved one hand at Papyrus, earning a growl of frustration from the taller skeleton.

"You're too soft for this, Sans! Speed won't do anything if you don't see an attack coming because you're too nice!" Agitated, Papyrus rose from the couch and began to stalk back and forth across the living room. "Besides, the king has made his stance on humans well-known."

"So you're gonna take her to New Home?" Sans asked, his hand curling into a fist again. As Papyrus stopped to turn toward him, Sans looked away sharply, not wanting his brother to see the faint glow in his eyes. 

"This matters so much to you, Sans?" Papyrus asked, standing still in the middle of the room as he stared at his brother. When Sans didn't look back at him, he hissed. "Sans!"

"Yeah," Sans finally admitted, lifting his eyes to Papyrus. The faint blue glow startled the taller skeleton. He drew himself to his full height as he watched Sans, then moved to sit down beside his brother, his own eyes glowing a faint orange. 

"We have to come to some sort of solution. I cannot allow her to hurt anyone in the Underground, Sans," he pointed out gently, reaching to rest a hand on Sans' closed fist. "But... I do not want to see you unhappy, either."

"I don't know why it even matters to me, Papyrus. It doesn't make much sense, but...," he trailed off, staring at the wall. 

"But sense or not, it matters," Papyrus finished. He withdrew his hand. "You know I must think about more than just your happiness, Sans."

"I'm not askin' you to compromise yourself, Papyrus," Sans shook his head. "Don't worry about me, okay? Make your decision without thinking about me." He rose, making his way toward the door.

"As if I could... where are you going, Brother?"

"We missed dinner," Sans pointed out. "So did she. I thought I'd get something from Grillby's for her. She's... still pretty broken up about what happened. A night in is probably what she needs most right now." He paused at the door, looking back at Papyrus pointedly. "A night in... and company. You remember what that's like, right?"

Papyrus' browbones furrowed, and he straightened a little. "Yes, Sans. I remember that feeling all too well. But I will not allow your softness to influence my decision." He hesitated, then added in a softer voice, "Have a nice dinner."

"You, too, bro," Sans nodded, slipping out of the door and latching it shut gently behind him. Out in the cold once more, he turned his face toward Grillby's, trying to ignore the anxiety in his soul.

\---

Papyrus stepped out into the cold nearly an hour after Sans' departure, his eyes dark and his soul heavy. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the kid running past his front door until she slammed into him. She sprawled back, landing in the snow and immediately leaping back up as a sound of pained disgust slipped from her mouth. Jerked out of his thoughts, Papyrus turned to offer her a hand, then chuckled at the look of outraged indignation in her eyes.

"Hello, Undyne," he offered, his voice gentle. "Were you looking for me?"

"Of course!" Undyne said immediately, her voice belligerent and tough. She started to speak again, then paused as her eyes lit up. "Wait, are you going to fight someone?!" she demanded. Before Papyrus could even start to answer, however, more questions tumbled out of her. "Can I come with you? Can you train me? Can I be in the Royal Guard when I grow up? Can I..."

When Papyrus held up his hand, Undyne fell quiet, stamping one foot. "I'm not going to fight anyone right now, Undyne," he said, amusement and kindness in his voice. "But you are welcome to join me for dinner, if you like?" He watched her face light in a crooked smile, and she nodded, her red hair bouncing with the vehement movement.

"What about training me?" she demanded as she fell into step beside him.

"You should learn more about the piano," Papyrus suggested, though he knew already that the words wouldn't work. The demand was an old one, and in the wake of the new threat, he was reconsidering his stance on the Royal Guard and training.

"Piano isn't exciting," Undyne grumbled. "I want to be a hero for the Underground, Papyrus! I want to be just like you." Her words, so innocently said, made Papyrus tense.

"Like me, Undyne? I think you would do much better being yourself. You don't have to be a fighter to be a help to the Underground, after all."

"But you protect people's happiness! I want to do that, too! If I can just get strong enough, I can make sure everyone's happy all the time. We could even work together. It'd be awesome!" She reached out, grabbing Papyrus' hand and jerking him to a stop. As he looked down at her, she grinned a wide, sharp-toothed smile. "Between the two of us, we could probably even break the barrier, right? We could be UNSTOPPABLE!"

"Yes," Papyrus whispered, looking away.

"Wait... what is it? You never back down from making the monsters happy," she demanded, poking his sternum. "Did someone say something mean to you? I'll go beat 'em up!"

"No!" Papyrus said sharply, frowning down at her. "Violence is not the answer, Undyne. How many times have I explained that to you? Brute force is not the answer for everything. You must be willing to step back and think sometimes, or to accept that you cannot make everyone happy."

"So who can't you make happy?" Undyne asked, scowling at Papyrus. The reminder about violence chafed, but she didn't protest.

Papyrus sighed. "My brother has met... someone... who might be bad for him. I am concerned for his well-being, but it bothers him when I point out that she's bad news." Was he really reduced to talking to a kid? Papyrus rubbed one hand over his skull, resolving to keep better control over himself in the future.

"No way," Undyne interrupted his thoughts. "You always make Sans happy. You two are awesome like that. Like... I know that no matter what else happens in the Underground, the two of you are always there for each other. You're my heroes! I'm going to find someone someday that matters that much to me, and I'm going to be just like you!"

As Papyrus stared at her in shock, Undyne snorted. "I'm getting really hungry! If we're gonna eat dinner, can we get Nice Cream after?" She turned toward Grillby's again, oblivious to the orange glow that lit Papyrus' eyes.

Put like that... who was he to argue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with chapter 2, I apologize if you noticed any glaring errors in this chapter. This chapter is unedited because both my beta-reader and I are in school and coming up to Finals, and we really need to focus on our grades. However, I felt bad leaving the story hanging when I knew I had chapters ready to go. (I also got a bit impatient and posted this chapter earlier than originally planned.)
> 
> When my beta has gotten back to me with the chapter edits, I will be updating the chapter to fix anything she's found. And if you see anything that needs fixing, you're more than welcome to point it out, but I will likely save all edits until I've gotten back the comments from my beta.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience!


	4. In Vino Veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A question and answer session leads to some revealing information about the skelebros... and some rethinking on Papyrus' part.

"So I was thinking," Amalia spoke up from where she sat crosslegged on the bed, watching Sans lay the food out at the inn's table. "We agreed to ask each other questions. This is different from normal questions, right?" Her voice was hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous, and she looked away from Sans as he started to turn toward her.

"Different from the questions you ask in the book?" he asked, looking at her for a long minute before shrugging and turning back to the table. He reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, pouring as he considered the question. "Different as in you ask different questions, or different as in you don't write in the book?"

Amalia lifted a hand to her lips, teeth worrying at her thumbnail as she considered the question. "I think... we could try asking each other questions one at a time?" she suggested finally. "Like a game. Like... if I ask a question, you have to either answer it or... something, and then it's your turn, even if I have more questions about the same subject?"

Sans thought about the suggestion for a moment, then chuckled. "How about we just say if we don't want to answer something?" he finally suggested, handing over the glass of wine before pouring another for himself and taking a sip. "No pushing on things we don't want to talk about, but we get a pass if we forget the topic's off-limits." 

He moved to sit down at the foot of the bed while Amalia squirmed off to look at the food options. "Can you manage that?" Amalia asked, piling her plate with fries that were still steaming. She grabbed one and popped it into her mouth, then hissed, turning sharply away from Sans as her mouth dropped open so she could suck air into it.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, starting to move to her. She waved him back down, finally reaching for her wine and taking a swallow. 

"I don't know how Grillby does that," she muttered, sucking in a bit more air before finally setting her plate on the bed. "It should be cold by now, but it's still hot enough to burn." She drank a little more before curling back up on the bed. "Can you?"

"Can I what?" Sans asked.

"Can you manage not to get mad? I mean, I don't plan to make you mad, but... if I hit on something that really bothers you, can you maybe avoid slamming me into the wall?" Her lips curved in a faint smile, but her eyes were sharp as she watched him from behind her glasses.

"Ah," he muttered, looking away as a faint blue settled on his cheekbones. "I... can warn you if you're getting too close to something I'm not ready to talk about?" he suggested. "And we both get to say no to topics. It... shouldn't be an issue."

Amalia smiled quietly. It was an acceptable answer: not over-the-top with reassurance, and full of honesty. She wasn't keen to see that side of him again, but somehow, his honesty relaxed her. "Would you like to start, then? I've asked you a lot of questions already," she pointed out.

Sans considered her silently for a bit, then nodded. "Yeah, okay," he agreed quietly. "Where'd you walk today?"

Amalia blinked, then looked away sharply, her heart suddenly hurting. "You don't ask easy questions, do you?" she whispered, staring down at her hands. She could feel Sans watching her, silent as he waited for her to respond in some way beyond the question, and she drew a slow breath. As questions went, it was really not all that rough of one. It probably even seemed light-weight to him. "I went walking to the door in the forest," she finally answered, looking at him. "I'd... rather not talk about that anymore, though? Not... not yet, anyway, okay?"

Sans frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment before simply nodding. "Next time you wanna go that far, I can walk with you, if you like?" he suggested, rather than pushing the topic, and the offer startled her.

"Why would you do that?" she asked softly, and his smile grew lopsided.

"Is that your question?" 

"Oh. No," she shook her head. "No, I wanted to ask... Why did you try to protect me from the Gyftrot?" Her eyes were solemn behind the glasses, and she reached for a french fry, nibbling at it as he considered the question.

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "I guess it was just... instinct? Like why you hit him in the first place, really," he reasoned out slowly. "Besides, the way I was shielding you, I was also stopping you from doing anything, right?" He smirked at her, then leaned back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. The questions floating through his head were tougher questions, and they'd only started this little game.... Was it worth a shot?

"Why are you here, kid?" he whispered. "Instead of with your family, I mean?"

Amalia had been sipping her drink as he spoke, and the moment he mentioned family, she spluttered. He looked over at her in concern, but she waved a hand at him, then pressed it to her chest as she got her coughing under control before looking at him. "...Did you want to talk about family then?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean... I thought you said that was a touchy subject."

"And you're deflecting," Sans pointed out, his eye sockets narrowing sharply. "Don't want to just say no?"

She bit her lip, looking down at the coverlet she sat on before drawing a deep breath and setting her shoulders. "I'll talk about mine if you talk about yours?" she said finally, her eyes lifting to lock onto his, and at the bold words, his eyes widened, flaring a soft blue.

"You don't pull punches, do you, kid?" he asked quietly, taking a deep gulp of his drink. The magic in the wine spread out through him. He relaxed back a little as he grinned. "All right, if you want to know the gritty details so much. But you have to start."

"I... don't really have any family," she finally admitted. "I've been a ward of the state for years... for as long as I can even remember, really. There's a foster family, but..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "Anyway, my foster-brother dared me to spend a night on the mountain. And... I thought it wouldn't be so bad, really," she added, looking up at Sans. "I plan to move out when I turn eighteen. Staying on my own for a night outside... that's just good practice, right?"

She reached up to tug her glasses off, then rubbed at her eyes before examining the dampness on her fingers solemnly. "They're nice enough people, but they're not really my family, I guess is what I'm saying. They probably haven't even noticed I'm gone." Even as she said the words, she knew them for a lie.

"You okay?" Sans asked softly, leaning forward to reach out and take her hand. She looked up at him, blushing faintly at the way his phalanges played over her skin, and the blue flush to his cheeks.

"It's your turn," she countered, rather than answering the question, because the truth was that she wasn't really sure. "Tell me about your family?"

He sighed deeply, looking down at the hand he held rather than into her eyes. "I've told you about Papyrus," he started slowly, and she tugged her hand back. The motion surprised him enough to make him look up. He blinked at the angry look on her face.

"Only a little, and that's not what I meant anyway. You know that," she informed him archly. 

He couldn't quite help it: the words drew a laugh from him, though it was a strained one. "Yeah, I know, kid. I'm just trying to figure out how to get there." He let himself drop back so that he could stare at the ceiling, finding it easier to talk without having to look at her. "I told you about the war, a little... The one before the barrier? Well, the humans got us into the mountain by chasing us out of our homes. They staged a raid, you see... invaded our homes, hurting and killing anyone who got in their way."

As he spoke, he took another long drink from his glass, then set it aside. It was empty, and the flush to his cheeks was darkening dramatically. Amalia hesitated, then crawled off the bed, taking her fries to the table and setting them down before moving to sit nearer him. She reached out, taking one of his hands and just holding it, and he glanced over at her briefly. She imagined she could read something like gratitude behind the bright glow of his eyes.

"The raid... well, it drove us out, too. When my parents heard the humans coming, they told me to grab Papyrus and run. I did as they said." The words were bitter, full of self-loathing and disgust. "I didn't even go back to check on them. The only reason I even know they died is... one of the neighbors saw it happen. Both of 'em, dust in an instant."

"Sans," Amalia whispered softly, squeezing his hand lightly. The bones made a muted clacking sound as they pressed together. "I'm so sorry..."

"No," he said abruptly, tugging his hand away from her to shove himself to his feet and swaying just a little at the rush of the rise. "You don't have to apologize. You said yourself, it's not your fault." He made his way over to the table, reaching to pour another glass of wine and gulping it down. When he set the glass on the table, it made a loud thunk. "I don't want you to apologize for the humans back then," he added in a tone that was harsher than he'd intended.

"Why not?" Amalia asked, getting up from the bed as well. She made her way to stand behind him, reaching out to rest a hand very lightly on his scapula. "They hurt you so much..."

"Because it doesn't mean anything coming from you," he mumbled, the words thick in his throat. He couldn't understand why it was getting so hard to talk. "Look, I'm kinda tired. You okay now?" The emotions were exhausting. The talk was exhausting. The whole day had been nothing but exhausting...

Amalia frowned a little, then tugged him around to look at her. "Are you drunk?" she asked softly, reaching up to tease her fingertips across one cheekbone. She startled just a little when he nuzzled into the touch, and drew her fingers back sharply. "You are, aren't you?"

"Probably," he finally agreed, his voice hazy and wry. "Grillby's got some really good stuff stocked. I didn't think about that when I ordered." He leaned against the table, staring at her for a silent moment before he lifted a hand to her cheek. "Sorry, kid. I normally stick to ketchup. Didn't think it'd affect me like this."

"Well, at least you're not slurring all over the place," Amalia murmured, reaching up to catch his hand and hold it in hers. "You should have some help getting home, though. I'm not going to share my room with you, after all. Let me walk you?"

"You're confusing, kiddo," Sans murmured, pushing himself to his feet. As he made his way to the door, Amalia could see that he could walk reasonably well, but that the movements were more free-flowing than normal, and he seemed to have some trouble with straight lines.

"No," she finally said, making her way over and catching one arm in her hands. As he blinked at her, she draped it around herself deliberately before moving to open the door. "I'm taking you home. Tomorrow, you can tell me what you mean by confusing." Grinning down at him, she guided him out into the hall. With her steadying him, it wasn't so bad. She figured getting to his house wouldn't be all that bad a trip, either.

\---

"Are you sure you don't need to talk about anything, Papyrus?" Alphys asked, her already-quiet voice further muted by the hum of machinery in her lab. Papyrus stood near the door, frowning as he watched her. It was rare for the shy lizard to push a matter, and the fact that she had clearly spoken up when she was already nervous, just because she was concerned about him, made the tall skeleton proud. But... it wasn't something he could talk about to others, really... could he?

"What makes you ask, Alphys?" Papyrus asked, finally caving enough to sit down on one of her chairs, setting his arms on the armrests almost regally. 

"You're... not like your normal self," she started slowly, waddling over to sit beside him. He couldn't help noticing that in such a position, she didn't have to look at him. Well, even just speaking up was a feat for her, really. "You haven't even asked about my latest project."

"Oh," he started, twisting to face her. "I'm sorry. Would you like to talk about it?" The invitation was real, but his heart wasn't in it, and he had a feeling that Alphys could tell. 

"I'd... like to know what's on your mind?" she asked instead, her voice hesitant and unsure. But her words were steady, and Papyrus was proud of that. She'd always had such a hard time speaking up, and here she was making such strides, and he wanted to cheer her on... but there were other things on his mind.

"I am simply... concerned," he finally hazarded, his words slow and measured as he considered exactly what to say. Alphys might not have the rank Dr. Gaster did, but Asgore still spoke to her. If anything got back to the king... Papyrus held down a shudder at the thought. "There is a situation in Snowdin I am unprepared for." He got to his feet, moving to pace back and forth through the lab. "A friend... is keeping company with someone they perhaps should not," he added quietly. "I don't want to see them hurt." He heard a soft chuckle from Alphys and looked over in surprise.

"You're such a good friend, Papyrus," she said softly. "Even with everything going on, and how much your job takes, you still worry about others. You even come to say hi to me," she added, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she ducked her head. "When you say 'keeping company', do you mean..."

"I am not sure what I mean, exactly, Alphys," he admitted, relaxing slightly. The explanation, vague as it was, was out in the open now, and she hadn't seemed immediately horrified. Though really, that might be because he'd been careful to keep the term 'human' to himself. Still, it calmed him just a little that Alphys was talking rather than screeching. "He seems quite... focused on her, though," he added, paying little attention to his pronouns.

"Do you think he could be falling in love with her?" Alphys asked softly, perking up. "Love is really wonderful, after all! Maybe he can change her. Or she can change him!" She was brightening, a gleam in her eyes that unsettled Papyrus somehow. And her talk of love made it all the worse, though he knew very well what she meant.

"You think he might have a chance of influencing her?" he found himself asking instead, as he finally caught up with her mumblings. "Does that happen, Alphys?"

Alphys hesitated, then shrugged awkwardly. "It does in the movies we see from above. There's all sorts of examples. So it must happen up there, right? They wouldn't make so many movies about something that just doesn't happen, after all." She got up, waddling to him and looking straight up into his eyesockets. "I think the best thing you could do would be to keep an eye out for them both. If things start to go bad, who better to help protect everyone than the Head of the Royal Guard, right?" She smiled shyly, and Papyrus blinked, realizing belatedly what she'd done.

"I did not mean to come here to make you worry about me," he said wryly, one hand moving to pat her shoulder. Her smile grew and she patted the hand before moving away from it.

"You came to report to King Asgore, I know," she noted, turning her attention to the machine she'd been tinkering with when he arrived. "But you're always so nice to check on me. I'm glad I was able to help you out a little, too... even if it's just vague suggestions." 

Papyrus watched her for a moment, then smiled warmly, moving to the door. "I shall see you tomorrow, Alphys. I look forward to hearing about your new project," he said firmly, wanting to reinforce that she didn't have to worry about him... even if he still hadn't fully resolved the situation for himself.

\---

Entering the throne room was... painful, and a testament to Asgore's continuing grief. Papyrus looked around at the dusty furniture, one piece toppled onto its side, and sighed softly. The king himself was sitting near a small flowerbed in the far corner, speaking to it in a low bass. Papyrus couldn't make out the words, but it didn't really matter, because he knew them by heart. The king would be describing his son, talking about Asriel as though that might somehow resurrect his dead child.

Papyrus' soul beat in shared pain for the boy. "Your Majesty," he finally said, standing at attention despite the knowledge that Asgore didn't care about such decorum. "I have come to make my daily report."

"Papyrus," Asgore greeted, his voice hollow and deep. He rose, turning to the skeleton solemnly. "I trust your brother is well?" 

At first, Papyrus blinked, startled by the question. He shouldn’t have been. The king always asked after Sans and the residents of Snowdin. But his worry about the human situation had occupied so many of his thoughts that the question blindsided him, and he took a moment to recoup.

“Sans is… well enough,” he finally offered, the words slow and measured as he tried to come up with something to add to the simple statement. When the silence stretched on too long, Asgore smiled sadly.

“It has left lasting marks on all of us, Papyrus.” The words were gentle and compassionate, but Papyrus was far too familiar with the king to miss the darker shadow that passed in his eyes. Asgore turned away, and Papyrus relaxed slightly once he was out from under the mournful gaze. “And the other residents of Snowdin? They are well?”

“Yes, Asgore,” Papyrus murmured, feeling the tension in his bones. The human was there. She had hurt Gyftrot. It would be a simple matter to explain to the king, and then capture her. And yet… memories of Undyne’s innocent words haunted him, stifling the words before he could get them out. “They’re fine. I make sure of it, daily.” 

Asgore nodded, glancing over his shoulder as he led Papyrus out of the throne room. “Would you care for some tea?” he invited, and Papyrus relaxed again. The daily report was over, and he had one more day to figure out exactly what he was going to do about the human situation.

“Thank you, your majesty.”

\---

The walk to Sans’ house hadn’t been particularly difficult at first. Unfortunately, Amalia reflected as she huffed her way up the stairs, her face turned towards Sans’ skull, halfway through the underground tunnel, he had dozed off. He still moved forward, but it was less free-flowing awkwardness and more stumbling shamble, and it took everything she had to keep him from just faceplanting on the ground and sleeping right there. “Come on, Sans,” she murmured, and he mumbled a reply, a strangely sweet smile on his skull as he lifted his foot again. At the sight of the smile, her heart stuttered a little, and to cover the reaction, she nudged him. “We’re at your house.”

“Sans?!” Papyrus’ sharp voice behind them made Amalia jump, but she swallowed, turning gamely so that Sans turned with her, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist so that she could guide him better.

“H-hi,” she offered hesitantly. “You must be Papyrus. Sans talked about you.”

“What have you done to him, Human?” Papyrus demanded, striding forward to tower over her. She fought the way her throat closed up and tried to find the words to explain. 

“He’s drunk? I mean, I didn’t get him drunk. He got himself drunk. I just he... I didn’t help!” She bit her lip sharply as Papyrus moved to scoop Sans into his arms. 

Sans blinked awake briefly, then fell into a soft snore against his brother’s shoulder, arms draped loosely over the opposite shoulder. Somehow, the skeletons weren’t mingling. Despite the holes, the rib cages were staying separate, but Amalia didn’t notice much more than that because her eyes were locked on the way Sans tucked his face against Papyrus’ jaw. When she realized Papyrus was staring at her again, Amalia jumped. “I just helped him back here. I promise.”

“You hurt Gyftrot,” Papyrus accused, moving to unlock the door. “Why bother with Sans?” He strode inside the house, and Amalia hesitated a moment before following him in. Without Sans in her arms, her hands twisted together in front of her. Sans was easy to talk to. Papyrus… was clearly not as comfortable.

“I didn’t mean to hurt Gyftrot,” she offered softly, wincing even as she spoke. The words weren’t an adequate explanation. In fact, they were little more than a weak excuse, and she hated that. “It doesn’t excuse what I did,” she hurried to add. “He startled me. I just reacted, but that’s no excuse.” 

Papyrus turned slowly, looking at her from the foot of the stairs, and she swallowed, meeting his eyes gamely. His eyes were like Sans’: white light floating in the black void of his sockets, and as he stared at her, those lights narrowed to sharp points before suddenly flaring wide again. “And Sans?” he asked. His voice had changed. It was softer and somehow gentler.

Amalia blushed, ducking her head. “He’s my friend.” She cast about for more explanation, but there was nothing else. It was as simple as that for her. 

“Stay here,” Papyrus directed, nodding to the couch. Amalia took a step back, toward the door, and he sighed. “I think, if you are my brother’s friend, we should talk. But Sans will be more comfortable in his room. Please stay,” he asked. “I will be back once my brother is settled.” Amalia nodded, moving to seat herself on the couch, and Papyrus made his way up to Sans’ room, satisfied she would wait.

It didn’t take long to get Sans settled. His brother was well and truly drunk, and the sight hurt Papyrus’ soul deeply. But he reached out to smooth a hand over Sans’ skull, taking the time to whisper to his brother, “I’m going to try to understand what you see in her, Brother. It’s the least I can do.” The words were not as reassuring as he would’ve liked, but they still brought a soft smile to Sans’ face, and that eased Papyrus’ worry just a little. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Amalia was still sitting on the couch, her legs pressed together and her hands folded primly in her lap. She would have been the picture of patience, but for the way her fingers twisted together in nervous fidgets. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Papyrus answered, the words awkward and quiet. “He's sleeping. I will make sure he eats something when he wakes." He cast about for something to say before finally settling on, "How did the two of you meet?"

"At Grillby's." The memory summoned a faint smile onto Amalia's face. "I went there for dinner when I got to Snowdin. I was nervous, and he...." She trailed off for a minute, staring down at her hands as one thumb dug into her cuticles. "He laughed at my jokes," she finally finished, looking up at Papyrus with a weak smile. "It may not seem like much, but everything down here is so overwhelming. We started talking. I mean, it was just small talk, really, but he helped me relax a little. And when dinner was over, he walked me back to the inn. He didn't have to. I mean, Grillby's is right there, practically. But..."

"But he did," Papyrus finished quietly. Those narrow pinpoints of white light were back, and as Amalia stared at him, she realized that those lights meant he was sizing her up. "And then?"

"And then I put my foot in it." The furrowed browbones were starting to become familiar to her, enough so that she didn't even blink when she saw them on Papyrus' longer skull. "The next morning, I said something I shouldn't have. I didn't understand things down here, and Sans set me straight. He scared me a little when he did, but he wasn't mean."

"He scared you," Papyrus mused slowly before realization came to him. "You spoke of our parents!" The sudden exclamation and accompanying stare made Amalia jump. She nodded, and Papyrus found himself smiling faintly. "That is a sore point for him," he agreed. "Did you apologize?"

"Yes," she whispered. "We talked about it tonight, too. I think... that's why he got drunk?" She missed the understanding in Papyrus' eyes as she looked up at the door to Sans' room. "...Would it be okay if I checked on him before I left? I know you take good care of him," she hastened to add, looking back at Papyrus worriedly. "I'd just like to see that he's safe myself."

"You care about my brother, Human," Papyrus mused, leaning toward her.

"He's been a good friend to me," Amalia said, squirming as she looked away. Pink crept over her cheeks, despite her best efforts to keep it away. "I'd like to return the favor." As she sat there, forcing herself not to squirm, she suddenly felt a bony hand settle on her shoulder. Her eyes flew back to meet Papyrus', and to her astonishment, he was smiling gently at her.

"You may check on him before you leave," he said quietly. "I haven't made my mind up about you, Human, but... I will give you a chance, for my brother's sake."

"Amalia," she said tremulously, reaching up to touch his hand where it still sat on her shoulder. He jumped at the contact and pulled back.

"Sorry?"

"My name's Amalia. I just thought you might like to call me that, rather than Human?" 

She got to her feet, tugging her shirt down before grinning at Papyrus, and the tall skeleton relaxed a little. When she was happier, the human - Amalia, he reminded himself - looked almost peaceful. It was a strange paradigm shift. As he was considering the change, she headed up the stairs, and disappeared into Sans' room.

Sans was not sleeping peacefully anymore. His sheets twisted around him, and his skull was smashed into the mattress. The pillow he'd been sleeping on lay on the floor, where it had fallen. As Amalia watched, Sans curled in on himself, twisting almost into a fetal ball. The agony in him called to her, and she moved to sit on the bed beside him, reaching out to take one of his hands in hers and stroke her fingers over it.

The bones were smooth under her fingers, soft in unexpected ways, and his hands relaxed as she continued to stroke. "I'm here, Sans," she murmured, and he started to uncurl from the uncomfortable twist his body had become, a faint groan escaping him. "I'm here, and your brother's here. You're safe." As he nestled into the mattress again, Amalia stretched out, rescuing the pillow from the floor and setting it near his head. 

Her hand reached out for his skull, then stopped, hanging in the air just above his head before falling away, and she gently moved his hand out of her lap. She sat beside him for a little longer, then turned to rise and jumped. In the doorway, Papyrus stood watching and waiting, and there was a gentle smile on his skull. Somehow, that smile made her blush all over again, and she got to her feet, moving past Papyrus into the hall.

Papyrus followed her, closing the door quietly behind him before looking down at the top of her head. "It's strange for him to have such trouble sleeping," he offered, his voice muted. "It only really happens when he remembers... what happened."

"To your parents?" Amalia hazarded, making her way downstairs. She could feel Papyrus following her.

"To all of us," he countered. "But yes, what happened to our parents plays a large part in his unhappiness." He glanced up toward the door again, then back at her. "I should see you back to the inn."

"No, you should stay here," she said firmly, rounding on him and staring straight up at him. To her surprise, he looked startled. "Sans might need you, and I can get back to the inn on my own. I won't let myself get distracted or startled again. I won't hurt anyone. I promise, Papyrus."

Papyrus hesitated, then reached out, resting one large skeletal hand on her head. "Be the human my brother thinks you are... Amalia," he commanded softly, and she rewarded him with a large smile.

"I won't let him down," she promised. "I won't let either of you down." She turned, hurrying to the front door and leaving, while Papyrus stared at her thoughtfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with Chapters 2 and 3, this chapter is awaiting edits but I'm impatient. :)
> 
>  
> 
> If you'd like to chat, feel free to come by [my tumblr](http://thegreatwordologist.tumblr.com/) and say hi! Or if you have a question about this story or the ColorTales series, feel free to post an ask over at the [ColorTales tumblr](http://colortales.tumblr.com/).


	5. Warmth and Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magical visit to Waterfall.

Sans groaned as his eyes opened. The light from his window was bright enough to tell him he'd slept the whole night, and as he sat up, he surveyed the damage to his bed. The sheets were crumpled, pulled free of the mattress and twisted around his legs, and his pillow was on the floor where it usually ended up. He reached up to rub his skull, then struggled free of his sheet-bindings to stumble to the door.

He could hear Papyrus in the kitchen as he shambled downstairs, still groggy and feeling worn thin. He made it to the door of the kitchen before a thought hit him, and he simply stood, staring at Papyrus as the idea percolated through his brain. "...She brought me home, didn't she?" he finally said. They were his first words of the morning, and Papyrus glanced around, his eyes sweeping over Sans before he snorted.

"Your friend Amalia? Yes," he agreed, turning back to the eggs he'd been scrambling. "I wanted to speak with you about that, Brother." Too tired to analyze Papyrus' words, Sans shuffled forward to collect the plate of eggs as Papyrus set them out and started on another batch. He moved to the wall and leaned against it, sliding down into a seat on the floor before starting to pick at the eggs.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"You were drunk when she brought you home. That's not like you, Sans," Papyrus said, his voice oddly cautious. 

Sans glanced up, then back to the plate. "You mean it's not like me 'anymore'," he pointed out, and Papyrus hissed softly. "She asked about our parents."

"You could've avoided speaking of it," Papyrus pointed out, moving the skillet off the burner and turning the stovetop off. The eggs inside were half-cooked, but Papyrus no longer seemed interested in doing anything other than staring at his brother.

"Nah," Sans shook his head. "She deserved the truth. And I found out why she was here, too. It's not exactly the happiest story. So... sad story for sad story. Fair trade, right?" He summoned a false grin and flashed it at Papyrus. "You like fair."

"I do not like you being unhappy, though," Papyrus countered immediately, moving to stand in front of Sans. The false smile shifted to a more genuine, though smaller, one. Sans set the eggs aside and just watched Papyrus as the tall skeleton prepared to speak again. It was a strange mood his brother was in, Sans noted. It wasn't often that Papyrus felt uneasy speaking his mind... at least, it wasn't often with Sans. When Papyrus finally found the words, though, the question stunned Sans.

"Why do you care about her so much, Sans?"

"We're getting into this this morning, bro?" Sans asked, trying to put off the answer for a moment. But Papyrus wasn't going to be derailed. He simply nodded, sitting in front of Sans in a way that reminded Sans of nights for just the two of them, before everything had gone to Hell, when Papyrus had not been Head of the Royal Guard, and Sans had just been his big brother. "Okay, fine," he sighed. "We're getting into it this morning. You wanna pass me some ketchup if I'm gonna talk about this?"

Papyrus hesitated, then rose to grab the red bottle. He tossed it to Sans, who caught it in his left hand and took a swig. "Why do I care?"

"About her," Papyrus added pointedly. "There's something about her that makes you react unusually. I want to know why."

"Where do I start?" Sans asked, leaning his skull back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. "She's funny - Dad-funny, you know?" he added. "She made me laugh. You'd probably like some of her jokes, too, if you took the chance." 

"Perhaps," Papyrus allowed, relaxing now that Sans was starting to talk about it.

"So... funny. That's a part of it. But it's also that she intends to learn about us. And it's not for the humans," he added, holding up a hand before Papyrus could manage to interrupt. "She's not trying to gather intelligence. She's just honestly interested. Some of the stuff she's asked about would be absolutely useless up there. But here, I don't know. It's stuff that could be useful if she stuck around."

"Her remaining may not be wise," Papyrus said quietly. "She's dangerous."

"Only when she's startled the way she was with Gyftrot, apparently," Sans snapped, sitting up straight. "I tested her. I went all scary skeleton at her, and all she did was look for an escape, Papyrus. She didn't hit me. She didn't even try. So maybe the reaction really was an instinct. We can't blame her for having those, can we?"

"You trust her, Sans? Really?" Papyrus pushed, and Sans groaned.

"Honestly? I don't know, Papyrus. She seems to care," he shrugged, rubbing his face with one hand. "But I don't... I can't... I'm not sure I really buy it. She's too good to be true, but I just can't ignore her. I want to be-"

"Her friend?" Papyrus interrupted sharply, and Sans groaned again.

"I don't know. Her friend, yeah sure. Maybe...no, nevermind. It's stupid. Her friend. I want to be her friend." He pushed himself to his feet and reached out to offer a hand to Papyrus. "What about you? Did you talk to her at all last night?"

"I did," Papyrus said, his voice so carefully neutral that Sans twisted to stare at him in surprise. "I... was rather surprised by her."

"You liked her," Sans realized slowly, and Papyrus coughed, shoving past his brother. 

"Not like that," he said archly. "But I did find a human who actually seemed to be rather honorable." The words were stiff, and Sans snickered as he trailed after Papyrus.

"No, you liked her," he accused in delight. His reward was Papyrus hissing through his teeth. "Admit it, bro, you liiiiked her."

"I found her respectable!" Papyrus finally exploded, turning to stamp a foot at his brother. "And caring! I didn't expect that out of her."

"So you liked her," Sans grinned wickedly, and Papyrus grumbled.

"No! But... I offered her a chance to prove herself. Don't start, Sans," Papyrus cut in before Sans could tease him again. "I will be watching. I'm not sure I really trust that she's as caring as she seems. But..."

"But?" Sans prompted.

"But you like her. I can tolerate her for that, as long as she is what she seems to be," Papyrus whispered. "If she makes you happy, Brother, then that's what matters."

Sans' mirth died slowly, and he moved to the stairs. "But Asgore..."

"Asgore does not know that a human is in Snowdin," Papyrus said firmly. "He rarely leaves New Home. I doubt he will ever realize that she's moved here." His eyes were locked on his brother, a faint orange flush to his cheeks that deepened as Sans reasoned out the words.

"You didn't give your report yesterday, bro?"

"I did," Papyrus sniffed. The very idea of ignoring his duties was distasteful. "But... well, she won't really show me what she's truly like if she's being hunted by Asgore, will she?" Papyrus looked away awkwardly. "Besides. She makes you happy. As long as she's not dangerous, then your happiness matters to me."

Sans stared at his younger brother, then smiled warmly, moving to hug Papyrus. "Never expected you to do this, bro," he muttered.

"I didn't, either," Papyrus admitted, resting a hand on San's skull. "But you're important to me, Sans. Your happiness is important. I wish I could just let it be at that," he added, and Sans shook his head.

"You've got more than just me to think about," he said, guessing Papyrus' worry. "If she's dangerous, I'll take care of it. I promise."

"We will, Brother. You won't be alone," Papyrus promised back, his voice warm and compassionate.

"...Thanks."

\---

"Thought I'd find you around here." The casual words made Amalia jump, and she twisted around to see Sans standing behind her, leaning to the right so he could see what she was drawing. She glanced down at the sketch of Grillby's, then sighed and shut the book.

"You look like you feel better," she offered, turning to face Sans fully, and he chuckled.

"Sleeping does wonders. So does talking. I hear you and Papyrus did some of that last night," he added, a wide smirk on his face.

She laughed. "Your brother really cares about you." She tucked the notebook to her chest, her eyes bright as she looked off into the distance. "When he first sat me down, I was terrified. But... he was nicer than I expected. Nicer than I had any right to deserve," she added, finally looking back at Sans. "He gave me a chance to show him I wasn't like... other humans." Her smile was wide and warm, until she saw the strain in Sans' eyes. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Sans waved one hand. "But I had an idea. Why don't we celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" She looked confused - almost as confused as Sans felt.

"Yeah, celebrate," Sans nodded. "My brother's approval. That's pretty big stuff to celebrate. And I thought you might like to see more than just Snowdin?"

"Like what?" Amalia asked, moving to follow as Sans turned east. 

"Like Waterfall," he said, starting to walk once she was alongside him. "Waterfall's pretty. You'll like it. I can show you the bridge-flowers, and you'll see where the mushrooms underground came from..."

"Like you need to convince me any more," Amalia laughed, starting to reach for his hand before her own dropped back to her side. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she lagged a step as she waited for it to fade.

"You coming?" he asked, when he realized she had slowed.

"Absolutely!"

\---

The line between Snowdin and Waterfall was surprisingly clear. There was no gradient from one area to the next, and as Amalia stepped from snow onto dry ground, she was startled to feel the chill air shift to humid warmth. "It's like...," she started to say as she turned back to look at where the snow ended, then stopped herself, closing her mouth with an audible click of teeth.

"Magic?" Sans drawled from beside her, smirking up at her. She blushed faintly, covering her face with one hand briefly before nodding. 

"Yeah. Well, I guess not 'like'," she amended wryly, glancing down at Sans. Her smile, which had been relaxing, faded. "Was it what I said?" she asked, and Sans blinked up at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, shrugging and turning toward Waterfall. "C'mon, there's a few places you really gotta see." He started forward, leaving her to trail after him. As she hurried forward, she clutched the notebook tighter to her chest. 

There had been a shadow in his eyes when she spoke... she was sure of it: a shadow he clearly didn't want to talk about.

"Sans, can you give me just a moment? I can't write while I walk," she said, making a decision and flipping her book open to the last page. As he waited, she jotted down a single word, then flipped the book closed before he could get a good look. "Okay. I just needed to make a note for myself. We can go now. What did you want me to see first?" she invited, trying to exude warmth and interest, though her mind was still stuck on that single word.

Magic.

"I wanna see what you think of the bridgeflowers first," he grinned, leading her to a shallow river. 

She froze at the edge of it, looking down at her jeans and then back at him. "Are we going to be dry by the time we get back to Snowdin?" she asked softly. Sans looked thoughtful, then grinned. 

"Yeah. I know a shortcut," he assured her, stepping into the water while she stepped out of her socks and shoes. That done, she bit her lip and stepped inside gingerly. 

Despite the cold she was expecting, the water was comfortable, just a little colder than the ambient temperature around her, and instead of the mud she was expecting on the bottom of the river, her feet found stone just rough enough to keep her from slipping. "How is this possible?" she whispered, staring down at the opaque water then up at Sans.

"Magic," he said wryly, reaching one hand out to her. 

She looked at it, then shook her head, starting to wade across. The water came to her knees, darkening the denim, but she ignored that. "It's so different from Snowdin," she whispered. "I guess it's so that monsters who need warmth and wet can be comfortable?" 

"Good guess," Sans laughed, and she stepped onto the other shore, giving him a look of enchantment.

"Do you come here a lot?" she asked, setting her notebook aside and sitting down. As he watched, she used the hem of her purple shirt to dry her feet, then pulled her socks and shoes back on. A final effort was made to wring a little of her jeans, but ultimately, they remained dripping.

"Not as often as Papyrus," Sans shrugged. "He has to come this way to get to New Home." The moment the last words were out of his mouth, he winced and held up a hand before she could even get the question out. "We're not talking about New Home today," he said firmly. "Today's for celebrating, not... not that." 

Amalia wanted to rail against what he said, wanted to ask the question he was denying her. But when she opened her mouth a second time, she saw the way his whole face shifted, dropping from defensive to honest pain, and she couldn't quite bring herself to do anything of the sort. So she didn't. "No questions today," she promised instead, trying to pretend that she'd always been planning to say the words. She had a feeling he wasn't fooled, but he still smiled back at her, relief visible in his eyes.

"Thanks. We can leave that for another day," he said. "Ready to play with some bridge flowers?"

"Yeah," she grinned, relaxing as he did, and sweeping one hand out in front of them. "Lead the way."

\---

"Don't be such a wimp, Muffet!" The sound of Undyne's sharp voice drew Papyrus out of his musings, and he blinked, stopping in the middle of the path as he listened. He hadn't expected to encounter anyone on his patrol, let alone Undyne and Muffet. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I just need some targets. You can spin some, right?"

Papyrus sighed quietly, moving off the path toward the voices before pausing. So Undyne was practicing, despite his attempts to lead her towards less violent pastimes. What hurt Papyrus the most was his complete lack of surprise at the turn of events. Undyne wasn't one to back down from something she was passionate about. He'd known that as long as he had known her, after all.

"Fuhuhuhu," Muffet returned, her voice lighter than Undyne's brash tones. "Of course I can. But do you really think you can hit them all?" The challenge behind the words was obvious, even to Papyrus, and he tensed, moving to the edge of the trees surrounding the clearing. From his vantage point, he could see both teens.

"Just what are you saying, dork?!" Undyne snarled, as a spear appeared in her hands. She scowled at Muffet, throwing the spear into the ground hard enough to shatter the magic into a shower of blue sparks. "Of COURSE I can hit them all! I'll DEMOLISH THOSE TARGETS!"

Muffet laughed again, the tinkling tones doing nothing to calm Undyne. If anything, the sound inflamed her. "You know Papyrus doesn't approve of you practicing without supervision," she said, the words singsong and teasing. Papyrus flinched, well aware of how the mockery would infuriate Undyne, and he started to step out into the clearing. But before he could do much more than shift a foot, Undyne surprised him.

"I know what you're doing, loser," Undyne growled. Her words were low and menacing, but Muffet didn't seem cowed. Startled by the relative calm of the teens, Papyrus fell still once more. "You do this every time."

"You fall for it every time," Muffet countered, rising from where she sat and walking slowly away from the other teen. As she moved, her hands waved expressively. "This is the first time you've stayed calm enough for me to spin anything," she added, as she hung the first web target over a tree branch. 

"I'm no use to anyone if I don't control my temper," Undyne muttered. "Papyrus always controls his!" Despite her sensible words, another spear manifested in her hands, and she shoved it into the ground at her feet. The frustration was making her shake visibly, but she didn't back down.

"You're still determined to be just like him, aren't you?" Muffet asked, twisting back around to look at Undyne. Her head tilted, all five eyes narrowed at Undyne. Undyne growled again, spinning around to pace.

"Of course not," she bit out, raking one webbed hand over her hair. The bright red smoothed down, gleaming in the mushroom light of the room as she stalked back and forth. "I'm going to be the best!" The words made Papyrus flinch a little, and he lifted one hand to rub the slight indentation at his temple. "So I have to be better than him, dork, because he IS the best," Undyne continued, startling Papyrus out of his worry. His eyesockets widened, and he leaned in just a little closer to watch her.

"We're gonna work together when I finally get into the Royal Guard." Undyne spun on her heel, a spear flashing into her hand, and she flung it without any apparent effort. Papyrus watched the spear fly toward the first of several web targets, and watched as the target was demolished in a flash of magic sparks. "We're going to protect EVERYONE. We're going to be partners, and WE'RE GOING TO MAKE ALL THEIR DREAMS COME TRUE!" One by one, targets vanished into nothing, and Muffet smirked.

"Everyone's dreams?" she asked, her voice light and sharp. Papyrus could hear the calculation in that voice, but Undyne didn't seem to.

"That's right, punk! EVERYONE! Papyrus does his best to make sure everyone's happy, and I'm gonna help him. Together, the two of us are going to MAKE IT HAPPEN!" She flexed, then spun around, throwing spears in a circle at trees throughout the clearing. Papyrus ducked back into the treeline just in time to avoid being skewered, and simply stood there for a moment, his eyes on the darkness in front of him. 

"I'm going to be Papyrus' right hand," Undyne proclaimed proudly, victory in her voice. "Just you watch, loser!"

Muffet's only answer was a tinkling laugh, and a single word. "Again?"

"ABSOLUTELY!"

\---

“So you’re saying this is all trash?” Amalia asked, standing on a small mountain of junk. “But everything’s so clean. How does that work?” She reached down, picking up a small stuffed bear. The toy was missing an eye and an arm, but the fabric was clean. The water hadn’t seemed to do any damage to the item at all, she realized as she lifted the toy to her nose and sniffed. It smelled almost as though it had just come out of a washer.

Sans nodded, moving to sit down and watch as she picked through the dump curiously. “With humans dumping all their trash down here,” he started, his voice soft, “we couldn’t afford to leave it alone. So… magic. It keeps us from getting sick, and we can salvage your junk. It’s pretty much win/win,” he added, though his smile didn’t suggest that he was happy about it. If anything, the pinpricks of light in his eyes seemed strained.

“Can you use it? Our trash, I mean?” she asked. He nodded, getting to his feet and moving to pick through the pile he had been sitting on. 

“Yeah. There’s a lot of raw material in what you throw away. Some of it gets repurposed, some of it gets reworked, and some of it gets… rearranged,” he shrugged. “At least we don’t tend to run out of stuff to go through.” The smile he flashed at her was amused and he lifted blue fabric up triumphantly. “Here we go.”

“What’s that?” Amalia asked, her voice hushed as she moved carefully to the edge of her pile before preparing to leap across to his. He reached out a hand, catching hers as the trash under her foot shifted. His grip was strong enough to keep her steady as some of the trash tumbled into the water, and when everything had settled, he tugged her a little closer, guiding her up the trash hill before dropping her hand. 

“You’ve been cold,” Sans finally answered. As he stretched the fabric between both hands, she realized it was a hooded jacket. She reached out to take the jacket from him, turning it to see the hood. 

“It’s got a ruff,” she laughed, daring to lift the fake fur to her nose and sniff. The grey fur was soft, and smelled faintly of laundry detergent. “I like it.” 

Sans reached out to take the fabric back and draped it over one bony arm. “If it’s not dry by the time we get back to the inn, you can stretch it out and it’ll be fine in the morning,” he explained. She nodded, watching as Sans moved down the small hill to jump to the other bank before holding out a hand to her. Once more, she leapt to him, and he caught her hand, steadying her on the bank of the river.

“So do you not ever get cold?” she asked, as Sans started to walk. When he looked over at her, his head tilted in a silent question, she shrugged. “That jacket would probably fit you, too, don’t you think? If you get cold, you should wear it.” She reached up, plucking her purple shirt with one hand. “I already have something, after all. You don’t. Neither does Papyrus,” she added, her eyes widening. “We should go find something for him to wear, too! We could bring him along.” Her voice grew more animated as she talked about the outing.

“Papyrus isn’t much for that sort of thing,” Sans shrugged. “Coming along, I mean. But… we could always go looking for something for him. If you wanted to get him a gift, that’s cool. I can help you pick something out.”

“It’d be better if I could give each of you something,” Amalia mused, reaching out to catch San’s right humerus. He stopped, looking at her in askance, and she grinned. “Try on the jacket?”

“It’s your jacket,” Sans shook his skull and started to turn away, but her hand shot out again, this time catching his. Her soft fingers twined with his skeletal ones, and his eyes jerked up to hers in surprise. 

“Please? I’d like to see. I bet it’ll look great on you,” she said, her voice softer. 

“You need warmer clothing, kid,” he muttered, but when she continued to stare at him, he caved. His hand withdrew from hers slowly, phalanges teasing very lightly at her skin before grabbing the jacket and stretching it back out so that he could slip it on. The damp fabric clung to him, but somehow, it didn’t drape between rib bones. 

“How does that work?” Amalia whispered, reaching out to touch the fabric, and Sans chuckled. 

“Magic. You done staring, kid?” Amalia shook her head, stepping back and walking around Sans as he laughed. “You know it doesn’t matter, right? This one’s yours.”

“But I like it on you,” she countered finally, reaching out to catch the hood and tug it over his skull before laughing. “You look good like that. You should keep it. And we can find something for your brother, and…”

Sans sighed, pulling the jacket off and draping it over his arm. “And the jacket’s staying with you,” he interrupted. “We don’t get cold like that.” When she seemed ready to argue one more time, he smirked. “Besides, it matches your eyes. It’s almost like it was made for you.”

Almost immediately, Amalia’s cheeks glowed red, and she turned away. “…Can we come back, then?” she finally whispered, letting her hair fall forward to obscure her face. Sans watched her silently for a time, then reached out, resting one hand on her back. The touch caught her attention, and she looked over at him. 

“We can come back.” He looked back at her with eyes that glowed a faint green. “We can do it any time you’d like. But for now, I have something to show you.” His hand finally dropped away from her back as he moved to stand beside her. She hesitated, then reached out, twining her fingers with Sans’ once more. She was still blushing, she knew it, but the feel of his hand in hers was nice. 

“Lead the way,” she murmured, and was rewarded with a large smile, though his eyes continued to glow green. If anything, the glow brightened just a little, and yet somehow that glow didn’t scare her. As they walked, she thought back to the bright blue glow before. Then, the sight had scared her. But now, the glow was soft and enchanting. It warmed her.

“You ever hear of a talking flower?” Sans asked, his thumb teasing against the back of her hand.

“A talking flower?” she asked, her voice muted. Her head tilted to one side as she thought. "It doesn't surprise me that there'd be something like that down here," she shrugged finally. "But I've never seen one."

"The Echo Flower," Sans explained as he led her along the path. She was all too aware of the fact that he still had her hand in his, but the cool bone felt good against her skin. "It repeats the last thing it hears. A lot of monsters like that." He cocked his head at her, his grin lopsided on his face. "I think you'll probably like it, too." His eyes had faded back to their normal pinpoint light as she'd relaxed.

"What do they do? The other monsters, I mean," she clarified. "Do they leave messages for someone else?"

Sans shook his head, slowing as the path opened up to a small pond. "A lot of 'em record wishes," he explained, his voice quiet and gentle. "Some of 'em like to play pranks." He tilted a smirk up at her, and she laughed softly.

"You're one of those, aren't you?" She tugged her hand free of his just to poke him in the side of the skull lightly. 

"Eh, not many people fall for it," he shrugged. "I bet I could'a got you, though." She couldn't quite resist the urge to run her hand over his skull, almost as though she was ruffling nonexistent hair, and he laughed at the action. "You're fun when you loosen up, kid."

She waited until they'd walked in silence for several minutes, with Sans slightly ahead of her, before she answered. Her words were barely a whisper. "So're you, Sans."


	6. Emotions are Confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making snow-skeletons... and friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've taken so long to post this one. I took a break on writing to get through finals, but my last final was yesterday, and so I'm going to try to get back to a more energetic writing schedule again and hopefully fix the issue I'm having with chapter 7.

"Getting hungry?" Sans asked, as they reached the border of Waterfall. Amalia's pants had long-since dried, as had the hoodie, and Sans held it out to her as she hesitated that last step before the snow. His grin widened when she caved and put it on, leaving it unzipped as she stuck her hands into the pockets and shrugged a bit to get comfortable. He moved to stand in front of her, catching hold of the front of the hoodie and moving to zip it up. "You look good like that, kid."

Amalia blushed darkly, ducking her head as one hand tugged free of her pocket to rake through her hair. "...Thanks," she whispered, stepping back as soon as the zipper was up to her chest.

"So are ya?" Sans pressed the question, and Amalia blinked before she realized what he was asking. Her confusion was amusing, he thought, chuckling to himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, I could eat something. How about you? I mean, I guess you get hungry, right?" she babbled a bit, then rolled her eyes at herself as she bit her lips shut. 

"I get hungry," he agreed finally, once he was sure he wouldn't laugh outright at her. "Wanna get something at Grillby's? I don't think you've tried the burger yet, have you?"

She shook her head, looking back at the line between Waterfall and Snowdin. "It was the first thing I ate there, remember? But your brother doesn't like Grillby's, does he?" she asked, rather than answering his question. Beside her, Sans tensed slightly.

"No," he agreed, his voice lower and his face turned away from her in that moment as he stared out at the snow. "But there's nowhere else to eat." 

"I could cook for you both?" she suggested softly, then grinned suddenly. "Wait... if you have burgers and fries down here... can you get eggs and cheese?" she demanded, reaching out to catch his hand and tug him to face her. Startled by her sudden enthusiasm, Sans blinked at her, smiling crookedly.

"...Yeah? But what do you need that for?" he asked, scratching the back of his skull with his right hand.

"My specialty," she said, her voice proud as she grinned widely down at him. "I can make it for you and Papyrus both! It won't even take that long." Filled with purpose, she turned to head back toward Snowdin once more. Sans watched her for a moment, then trailed along after, just a little slower. "It's called a quiche. And maybe if he likes it, Papyrus will relax a little, right?" she suggested, glancing back at Sans.

"You must really like my brother," he mused, careful to keep his voice light. He didn't expect her to stop and spin around, but she did, pinning him with a look.

"He scared me at first," she admitted, but her eyes were bright and strangely happy. "But... I've been thinking about the talk we had last night. He's... he's pretty cool," she finally said, blushing as she spoke. "I mean, he's really worried about you. I've never... I mean, that's not something you see a whole lot, up there." One hand lifted, waving vaguely at the ceiling of the cavern.

"Yeah," Sans said, and the word was somehow slow and soft as it hung between them. Nearly a minute later, he nodded, straightening his shoulders just a little. "Yeah, I guess he is pretty cool, isn't he?"

Amalia grinned at him, reaching out to take one of his hands in hers, and he let her. "So let me cook for you both. I need to thank both of you, after all," she pressed, stepping a little closer to him, and his hand tightened on hers reflexively. The press of cool bone into her skin made her shiver faintly. "And cooking's just about the only thing I can really do. If he's not comfortable, then I can duck out before we eat," she added, only for Sans to shake his head sharply.

"Nah," he said firmly, his thumb rubbing against her skin once more. The small touch was soothing and gentle. "It'll be better if he really gets to know ya the way I do." 

"Then let's go," she whispered, staring at him for another minute before turning resolutely toward Snowdin once more. He noticed that as she walked, she continued to hold his hand.

\---

Asgore was not in the throne room. That was the first sign for Papyrus that something was unusual. Papyrus stood in the front hall of New Home for a moment, his browbones furrowed at the sight of the king sitting in the armchair near the fireplace. 

"Your Majesty?" he finally ventured, stepping into the doorway of the room and holding himself still. The change made no sense, and the timing made him uneasy. For years now, Asgore had dealt with his grief by tending his flowers, leaving Papyrus the duty of overseeing things. But now... it seemed the king was studying a large, ancient tome.

"Papyrus." The low rumble was slow in coming, but eventually Asgore looked up from the book. His massive hands shut the cover gently, and he set the book on the mantle before rising. "Ah, it is time for your daily report, is it not?" His eyes, while still sad, were clearer than they'd been in ages, and Papyrus couldn't quite understand it.

"Yes," he agreed softly, following the king toward the kitchen. 

"Will you have some tea with me, then? I'd like a more informal report today." Without waiting for Papyrus' answer, Asgore set a kettle on the stove to boil and moved to set out two mugs for the tea. 

"Is there a problem, Asgore?" Papyrus hazarded, anxiety tamped down so that he wouldn't give away his worry.

"Not a problem, Papyrus," Asgore assured him in a warm voice. "A bit of confusion on Dr. Gaster's part, but nothing to be worried about, I'm certain." The king didn't look back at Papyrus as he spoke, and missed the way the tall skeleton stiffened sharply.

"Confusion, your Majesty?" Never had Papyrus been so careful with his words as in that moment.

"It's nothing to worry about," Asgore waved a hand at Papyrus, pouring the hot water into both mugs before adding a splash of milk to one. He handed that one to Papyrus, then picked up his own mug and nodded toward the table. Slowly, Papyrus moved to sit down, watching the king solemnly. "Dr. Gaster picked up some unusual magical fluctuations. I've asked him to reanalyze them before he comes to me with the findings again. I'm sure there's a mistake."

Papyrus sipped his tea rather than respond to the words as his mind worked furiously. What had Gaster found that had changed the king's pattern so very drastically? The head of the Royal Guard had a guess, and the idea scared him more than he could say. 

"How is your brother, Papyrus?" The gentle question, so familiar in another setting, tugged Papyrus back to the present, and he nodded slowly.

"He's well," he said slowly, searching Asgore's eyes. The sadness was still there, but for once it was banked behind a harder, stoic expression. Papyrus hesitated, then offered a little more. "I believe he's finally beginning to reach out again. It is a good sign, I think." He looked down at his tea, swirling the milky liquid in his teacup.

"And the others in Snowdin? How are they?" Asgore's voice was friendly and attentive in a way that Papyrus wasn't quite used to, but the skeleton could feel there was something behind the question. His feeling was reaffirmed as Asgore continued. "Have there been any threats?"

Papyrus lifted his head to stare straight at the king, quiet for a moment as he debated internally. Eventually, however, he shook his head. "No threats, your Majesty," he confirmed softly. "I've made certain that everyone is safe. I will always put everyone's safety first."

He had expected himself to flinch when he spoke his first outright lie, or do something else to give himself away, but somehow, Papyrus remained steady and calm under the king's thoughtful gaze. After a moment, he sipped his tea, and watched as Asgore did the same, and the tension in the room faded. The king smiled sadly, turning his eyes to the golden flower in the center of the table. "I am glad, Papyrus," he said at length. "I know I can trust you to protect everyone."

Papyrus set the teacup aside, amazed his hands were not rattling, and rose from the chair. "I should return to my patrol, your Majesty," he said in a muted voice. "My brother will be wanting dinner soon."

"Of course, Papyrus," Asgore nodded, and as he looked up at Papyrus, the skeleton was startled to realize the weight of grief had settled back into his features. He looked far more like the king Papyrus was used to reporting to each day than the monster that had been reading when Papyrus arrived. "Please have a good dinner." He rose to walk Papyrus to the door, and Papyrus remained quiet as he left.

Once the door closed behind him, Papyrus looked back at New Home, his browbones furrowed in worry. Something was going on... something that had changed Asgore, and the timing was awfully suspicious. Hands clasped together in worry, Papyrus turned to head back to Snowdin. But his mind was far away. 

\---

Amalia sat back from the table, smiling contentedly as she toyed with the last bite of quiche. Dinner had been a simple affair - just the brothers and the quiche, with milk for her and Papyrus and ketchup for Sans. Papyrus hadn't been much for conversation, so Amalia was left to fill in the silence by telling Papyrus about their visit to the dump. She'd done so at length, pretending not to notice when Papyrus didn't take a bite of his slice of quiche until she'd swallowed at least two of her own.

"Hey, Papyrus," Sans muttered, frowning as Papyrus used his fork to poke holes in the last few bites of his quiche. "You with us, bro?"

Papyrus' head jerked up, and he blinked owlishly at both of them before nodding. "Of course I am," he assured Sans. "I just... patrol was interesting today."

"Anything to worry about?" Sans asked, his eyesockets narrowed. He reached out under the table, curling a hand around Amalia's and squeezing lightly in comfort. She relaxed minutely at the gesture, twining her fingers with his as both of them watched Papyrus.

"No," Papyrus said firmly. "I will always make sure it is nothing to worry about." The promise was stilted and firm, but the emotion behind it was so vehement that Amalia swallowed. She couldn't quite stop herself from reaching out toward Papyrus' hand on the table top, and as Sans noticed the move, he withdrew his own hand under the table. Amalia didn't notice as she touched Papyrus.

"Should I go, so that you can talk to Sans?" she asked, her words guileless. Papyrus looked up at her, startled by the offer, and she grinned wryly. "Why else would your patrol be different? I'm the only new thing around, right?" she pointed out, keeping her tone even and calm. It was difficult not to wither under the intense stare that Papyrus was giving her, so she dropped her eyes to their hands, and folded hers around Papyrus'. "I'm really glad for the chance you're giving me," she offered. "But... if it's putting anyone else in danger, then I can go." She could keep her tone even as long as she didn't look up at him. 

"Where would you go?" Sans' question was fair and blunt, and Amalia flinched minutely. How could she possibly answer that in some way that he would accept?

"I don't know," she whispered. Before she could say anything else, though, Papyrus had turned his hand around in hers, and was gripping her hand almost too tightly. "Papyrus?"

"Don't go," he mumbled, the words almost dragged from him. After a moment, he looked up at her, his eye-lights narrowed to tiny points. "You make Sans happy, and you have been careful today. You should stay." 

"I don't want to make things worse for you." Her eyes were locked on Papyrus, searching his face for any sign that he didn't believe the words he was saying, and beside them, Sans scooted back his chair. It didn't matter whether or not he liked the way they were staring at each other, because she was just his friend... right?

"You will make things worse if you go," Papyrus stated firmly, punctuating the words with a finger-tap against the wood of the table. The sound of bone on wood was surprisingly sharp. "Stay in Snowdin."

Amalia hesitated, then nodded slowly, offering Papyrus a slow, shy smile before glancing toward where Sans had sat. To her surprise, his chair was empty, but as she listened, she could the water running in the kitchen. "I... should probably help Sans with the dishes," she said finally, tugging her hands free and moving to gather up their plates and the pie tin that had held the quiche. "After all, I dirtied them all."

Papyrus just watched her as she made her way out of the room, and all the way, she could feel his eyes on her. That gaze felt analytical and heavy, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the door to the kitchen swung shut behind her.

"Want some help?"

\---

"So do you two build snowmen?" Dishes were done, Sans seemed relaxed again, and Amalia really wanted to try and do something with both of the brothers. She'd been wracking her brain for something the three of them could do together for nearly a half-hour before a glance outside the window hit her. Snow! And just like that, the idea had popped into her head, almost fully formed.

"Snowmen?" Papyrus questioned, looking up from his book to stare at her. Sans was quicker on the uptake... or at least on the response. She wasn't quite sure which.

"Snowmen? Nah. Now snow-skeletons," he smirked, waving one hand lazily in the air. "We do those sometimes." 

"We haven't built snow-skeletons since I joined the Royal Guard," Papyrus countered, looking between the two of them as though trying to figure out what was going on.

"Has it been that long, bro? I didn't realize. I guess we better get out there and make one, then, huh?" Sans grabbed the jacket he'd picked up for Amalia off the back of a chair and held it out to her. She laughed, reaching to take it as Papyrus groaned.

"Sans, we hardly need to make snow skeletons on my account," he said firmly, starting to turn his attention back to the book in his lap. Before he could read more than a couple of words, however, Sans cleared his non-existent throat firmly.

"I wasn't thinkin' for your sake, bro," he said, nodding to where Amalia had already left the house. "I was kinda thinkin' more for hers." His voice lowered a bit, and he drifted closer to his brother, though he still kept an eye on the girl outside. "I think she'd like to get to know you a little better."

Papyrus frowned, setting his book aside as he sat up straighter. His eyes moved to the girl outside for a long minute, then back to his brother cautiously. "What are you saying, Sans?"

Sans shrugged lazily, reaching one hand out to grab his brother's and pull the tall skeleton to his feet. "I'm saying let's go build snow-skeletons," he finally stated firmly. "We'll all have fun, and... maybe you can see what I see in her, hmm?" Sans stared up at Papyrus, and Papyrus slowly caved, nodding as he waved Sans outside.

"Lead the way, brother," he said softly. "Let's see what this human has up her sleeve."

"I think that's her arm," Sans snickered as the door closed behind the brothers and Amalia looked up. Behind him, Papyrus groaned softly.

"Oh good," Amalia grinned brightly. "I have no idea how to make a snow-skeleton, so I thought I'd leave that to you two, and build a boring old snowman?" She'd already begun, her bare hands rolling the ball of snow she'd made until it had grown big enough for a base for a short snowman. Her eyes looked from one brother to the other, then back again, and her grin widened. "So... make the best snow-skeleton you can! I'm looking forward to being impressed."

Sans looked over at Papyrus with a devious gleam in his eyes, and scooped up a handful of snow. "Hey bro," he said casually, as he started setting up the base for his sculpture. "I bet I can make a more impressive snow-skeleton than you can. Amalia can be the one to decide," he added, nodding to where Amalia was working on the second ball of snow, her tongue poking out from between her lips as she rolled it.

Papyrus' eyesockets widened a bit, and then he drew himself to his full height, staring down at Sans. "All right, brother," he said, his voice proud and firm. "You're on." 

For hours, the three of them worked, occasionally looking at each other's work. Amalia's snowman was deemed boring by Sans, who teased her until she flounced over to help Papyrus with his rather than continue to listen to the shorter skeleton. But as she did, there was a smile on her face, and when she held up a handful of snow and offered her aid to Papyrus, he found himself agreeing softly.

By the time the last of the skeletons was done, the camaraderie between the three had settled into something relaxed and warm. As Amalia moved to stand before Sans' skeleton, she chuckled. "Do you realize you both built yourselves?" she asked. "That's too cute."

"Who else would we build, kid?" Sans drawled, smirking over at her as she reached for the zipper to her hoodie. 

"This works, though," she informed Sans with an impish smile that had both brothers eyeing her curiously. "Now I can show Papyrus how good you look in this."

Sans' eyes widened while Papyrus' narrowed, and then the shorter brother was waving his hands at her. "Nah, it's yours, I said! Leave it on."

"No chance," she returned as the zipper separated, and then she tugged it off, moving to settle it around the squat snow-skeleton. "See what I mean, Papyrus? It's like the jacket was made for him!"

Papyrus tilted his skull to one side thoughtfully, then laughed. It was an honest laugh, relaxed and open, and the very sound of it surprised him. At some point in the building, he'd started to trust the human without meaning to... "It does look rather good on you, brother," he agreed, his voice lighter and more teasing than it had been in years.

Sans looked up at Papyrus, startled, then snorted and stalked over to his snow-skeleton, grabbing the hoodie off of it. "Doesn't matter who it looks good on," he said, his voice made sharp with embarrassment. "It's Amalia's. She feels the cold more than we do." Amalia took the hoodie back from him, laughing as she slipped it back around herself. "Besides," Sans muttered, looking away and rubbing one hand against the back of his skull, "it looks pretty good on her, too."

"It does," Papyrus agreed softly, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two before his smile grew. "And Amalia looks happier when she's warm," he added, moving toward the house. As the other two followed him inside, they could just hear his final observation. "Of course, the two of you look happiest around each other."

\---

"I should probably get going," Amalia murmured from her spot on the couch, reluctant to get up despite her words. She lifted her arms above her head, stretching as she made herself sit up from where she'd snuggled into the soft couch, and Sans watched her from the other corner. When her stretch was done, she pushed herself up, reaching for the hoodie draped over the arm of the couch and pulling it on, while Papyrus twisted from where he sat on the floor to watch her thoughtfully.

"Sans will walk you back to the inn," he finally declared, earning a blink from both of them. 

"He doesn't need to," Amalia started, falling silent as she heard Sans chuckle softly. He got to his feet, padding over to stand beside her, his grin relaxed and wide as he stared at his brother rather than looking at her.

"You sure you wouldn't rather escort her, bro?" he asked lazily, but Papyrus just sniffed, turning back to the book he'd been studying without a response. Sans looked over at Amalia, his smile faded but still present. "Guess that settles that."

"You don't have to come with me if you'd rather not," Amalia pitched her voice low, hoping that Papyrus wouldn't overhear. "You looked pretty comfortable, after all."

"Nah," Sans shrugged, opening the door and gesturing for Amalia to step out first. He moved out after her, then settled beside her on the path. "I'm already up, and I don't really mind. After all, you cooked dinner for us." His eyes flicked over to Amalia, noting the oddly sad smile on her face, and he huffed. "Besides, Papyrus is busy studying some new puzzle techniques. It's usually better to just let him finish. Hope you don't mind a bonehead like me walking you back?"

"No!" Amalia protested immediately, stopping in her tracks to look at him with wide eyes. When she saw the smirking grin, she realized the pun for what it was and one hand lifted, shoving her glasses up so that she could cover her eyes in embarrassment. "You got me," she moaned, and Sans snickered. Settling her glasses back in place, Amalia moved to tuck her hands into the pockets of her new hoodie, ducking her head a bit so the soft grey ruff of the jacket brushed against her cheeks.

For a while, they walked quietly. Occasionally, Amalia would glance over at Sans, trying to decide what to say to him, but nothing came to her. It wasn't like Sans to be so quiet, and the silence from him made her somehow nervous. At last, the inn came into sight, and Amalia hesitated. Before they could get too close to the inn, she reached out, her fingers curling around his left radius. He paused, turning to look at her, and she frowned at the dim light in his eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, stepping a little closer. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Sans asked, holding still as she grew nearer to him. Her fingers shifted on his arm, but didn't pull away, and he shivered faintly at the feel. The feel of that faint tremor made her pause and look down, and experimentally, she ran her fingers down the bone a bit, feeling the smooth surface under her fingertips.

"You're not acting like yourself. You've been quiet ever since dinner. Even when we were making snowmen - sorry, snow-skeletons - you weren't acting like yourself. What's going on?" Her earnest words made him blush a faint blue, his smile twisting a bit as he sighed.

"It's nothing big," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. The move drew his arm away from her hand, and she let it drop as her eyes cut away from him.

"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered.

"You?" he blinked, startled at the question. "No! No, of course not. What would make you think you did anything wrong, kid?"

"You seemed more or less fine as long as your brother was around," she explained softly, her hand coming up to grip her other elbow, so that she was almost hugging herself. Sans watched her, realizing the defensive nature of her pose, and took a half-step closer, but didn't lift his arms to her. Things were getting... confusing. "I thought maybe after what your brother said, you were... uncomfortable?" She measured the word as she said it, nervous at the way it sounded, but it only made Sans huff out a mirthless laugh.

"It's not you, kid," he assured her, hesitating again before reaching up to take her elbows in his hands, his right hand covering hers where it gripped her elbow. "I just have a lot on my mind, okay? I want to talk to Papyrus first, but I promise, I'll talk to you about what's going on after I sort out a few things. That good enough?" His eyes roamed over her face, noting the faint pink to her cheeks, and the way she worried at her lower lip with her teeth. Her hand spread under his, her fingers twining with his fingers, but otherwise, she held still in his grip.

"Yeah," she finally murmured, her voice so soft he almost couldn't hear her. "You don't have to explain if you don't want to."

"I want to, kid... Amalia," he protested. "I just need to know what I'm actually explaining first. That make sense?"

Amalia nodded, summoning a faint smile for him before ducking her head. He let go of her elbow to lift one hand to her cheek, cupping it, and her eyes flicked back up to him in surprise as the pink cast of her cheeks blossomed into a warmer red. "Take whatever time you need," she finally whispered. "Just... promise to tell me if I do something to make you mad?"

Sans' thumb brushed against her cheekbone, feeling the soft flesh covering it, and her eyes fluttered shut. "I promise," he swore softly. For a silent minute, they stood in the snow, still as statues. Her eyes finally swept open, the blue in them a thin rim around the black. 

She stepped back, pulling free from his hands. "I should go in," she whispered, the words barely breath given form. As he nodded, not quite sure what to say, she spun, striding toward the inn quickly, as though she wanted to get away from him. In his chest, he felt an odd throbbing.

When the door shut behind her, Sans remained standing there, still staring at the wood as he tried to process what had just happened.


	7. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings abound!

"Dr. Gaster," Papyrus said, stepping into the laboratory. It was rare that Papyrus found a reason to visit the other skeleton, but after the small mention Asgore had dropped the day before, he felt almost required to follow up on it. He wasn't particularly surprised to see the scientist standing at a small terminal attached to the Core. As Papyrus drew closer, however, Gaster turned, flicking a phalanx over a switch. The screen on the terminal went dark, and Gaster turned smoothly to regard Papyrus. 

"You've come about the danger," Gaster said, without preamble, turning to stalk toward a desk in the back of the lab. Papyrus followed quietly, his eyes locked on Gaster in tiny lightpoints. 

"Asgore did mention that you'd made some sort of discovery?" he finally offered, as Gaster turned back toward Papyrus with a sheaf of papers in his hand. The thin scientist smiled grimly. "Is this it, then?"

"My readings from the Underground are... problematic," Gaster said, handing the papers over. "There is an anomaly at work. I thought it may be informative for you to seek out the source of the troubling readings."

"I'm not a scientist," Papyrus protested, though his hands curled around the papers. Reflexively, he glanced down at them, noting the calculations written in tiny script. In two places on the top page, the calculations were circled with vivid red. Papyrus stared at the numbers solemnly, and despite his declaration, it was easy for him to understand the calculations... and recognize the anomaly.

"That hardly matters," Gaster said dismissively, waving a hand at the papers. "You have the skills to read this, all the same." There was no question in that. There didn't have to be. Gaster knew he had the skills because Gaster himself had taught Papyrus how to read such equations. Papyrus turned away, moving to set the papers firmly down on a table in the lab.

"Perhaps your instruments are in error," he said stiffly. "I've seen nothing on my patrols to corroborate such readings." His fingertips clicked against the steel tabletop as he stared down at the papers still. Behind him, Gaster offered an eerily mirthless chuckle.

"Your brother never did teach you to lie very well, Papyrus," Gaster's smooth words echoed his forward glide to retrieve the papers. "Are you discrediting my reports to Asgore as well?" 

Papyrus' hand curled into a fist, and his head jerked to the side to stare at Gaster. A faint orange glow lit his eyes, and the sight made Gaster's chin rise in defiance. "So you are," he observed, and his voice was terrifyingly neutral. "Have you come to strike a bargain, then? That's really more your brother's purview, isn't it?"

"Why does the king have you searching out such anomalies, Gaster?" Papyrus demanded sharply, the orange glow in his eyes brightening. 

"Papyrus," Gaster said, his voice muted and suddenly very tired. He moved away from the table to retrieve a mug of sea tea and sipped it as he sat down. "Becoming head of the royal guard did not remove your intelligence. Do me the courtesy of not pretending it did." 

Papyrus ground his teeth together in frustration as he stared at Gaster, and the orange of his eye glow deepened, becoming almost red. "Gaster," he said, when he could trust himself not to snarl at the scientist. Gaster sat back in his chair, inclining his head. "What does the king have you doing?"

"A better question," Gaster nodded, even as his eyes slid away from Papyrus'. "The war is far from over, Papyrus. You know that as well as I." He took a long sip of his tea, then set the mug aside to rise. "There is power within a human's soul, and my readings suggest that one is in the Underground." He drew a long, slow breath before continuing. "The one in the Underground is weaker than those we faced in the war, but I believe the weakness is irrelevant. My readings register only the surface strength."

"You think that the... the human may be the key to breaking the Barrier," Papyrus breathed softly, and the reddish cast to his eyeglow faded so that the orange was once more bright. He took a step back, away from Gaster, and the scientist nodded slowly.

"There are experiments Asgore would like handled," he offered, and his tone was even and calm.

"Why you?" Papyrus demanded sharply, sounding younger than he had in years. He strode forward abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table near Gaster hard enough to make the scientist flinch. "Because you were in the war?! There are other scientists!"

"Other scientists," Gaster bit out, shoving himself out of his chair to move forward, standing tall in front of Papyrus. "Scientists like Alphys, you mean? Should I cast her to the wolves, then?"

"Gaster," Papyrus scowled, something hurt in his eyes as he held his ground, refusing to back down in front of the scientist. "I can guess what the experiments will entail. The king is angry, even now! If he wants to damage someone's soul on the chance it might help us..."

"Then it will be the soul of someone who served in the wars," Gaster interrupted. "Alphys will have no part in this. She's far too delicate for such work." His eyes lifted to stare at Papyrus. "As head of the guard, you're sworn to protect such tenderness, are you not?" The words twisted in his mouth.

Papyrus stepped back a single pace, his eyes wide with hurt at the words. "...Uncle," he whispered softly.

"Whatever you're hiding, I suggest you learn to conceal it better," Gaster finally answered, turning away from the title and the pain in Papyrus' eyes. "I will not stop my work, no matter how hard you fight to discredit me."

"The human in your notes is not at fault for the Barrier, Gaster," Papyrus insisted, recovering himself somewhat. Gaster merely chuckled in cold amusement.

"The human in my notes is nothing more than a tool," he countered. "Don't pretend you understand the necessities of war. Sans shielded you from far too much when you were young." As Papyrus choked at the words, Gaster moved back to his calculations. "Thank you for stopping by. You may go."

The dismissal was frank and cold... and Papyrus finally turned to leave, his very soul feeling weighed down by the knowledge he carried.

\-----

"What is it with you and waystations?" Sans asked casually, as he offered Amalia a wide smirk. She didn't smile back at him. She didn't even look up from her notebook, though her shoulders curled in just a little. It was a defensive move, one that Sans recognized easily. "C'mon kid, throw me a bone here," he suggested. When she didn't even register the joke, he frowned deeply. "Amalia..."

"I saw Gyftrot when I woke this morning," she cut him off. She drew the hoodie around herself a little more tightly, tugging the hood over her head so that she could hide within it. Seeing her actions, Sans winced. "I hurt him, Sans. The look he gave me... I don't know why your brother forgave me. I don't know why you forgave me," she whispered. "I hurt him."

"It was an accident," Sans whispered, reaching out to rest a hand on her head, over the hood. She didn't flinch away, but she didn't push into the touch either. "Gyftrot may still be angry, but he won't stay angry forever." 

Amalia pulled away from his hand at that, curling forward to hug herself tightly. "He should!" she bit out. "I can't do anything to fix it. All I can even do is just... make myself get used to everything here, get so used to it that it never happens again!"

Sans snorted, almost immediately regretting the dismissive noise. He watched Amalia's back flinch, but she didn't say anything. "Look, kiddo... that's not how instincts work. We both know that."

"It has to be," Amalia argued finally, turning to stare at him with wild, determined eyes. "I won't hurt anyone else that way. I won't let myself. I may not be able to make it up to Gyftrot, but I can stop myself from hurting anyone else. I can do that much, at least!" The words seemed to bolster something inside her, and she reached up to grab the sides of her hood and jerk it back down. "It doesn't matter how hard it is. I can do it, Sans!"

His eyes softened as he watched her. Without his permission, one hand lifted to smooth down the flyaway hair left by her hood, and his smile gentled. "If anyone could, I think it'd be you," he agreed finally. When she nodded determinedly, he brushed a phalanx over her cheek. "I'll help."

Her eyes widened, a faint pink blossoming over her cheeks as she stared at him. Hesitantly, she smiled up at him, and he grinned back at her. "We're in this together, kiddo."

She opened her mouth to say something in return, then closed it shyly, shaking her head as he laughed. He couldn't quite stop himself from repeating, "Together."

\-----

"Discredit you," Papyrus whispered, standing outside the door to Alphys' lab. He hadn't intended to do any such thing to Gaster, but the doctor's insistence on using the words had left him reeling. As he made his way out of New Home toward Snowdin, the words had lingered in his thoughts, clinging like sadistic pomeranians to his mind. He finally paused outside of the lab out of habit, and after several minutes drew a deep breath. With another attempt to disregard his uncle's wayward comments, Papyrus strode into the lab, his eyes searching out Alphys.

"Papyrus," Alphys piped up, looking up from a beaker filled with dark blue liquid. She straightened, waddling toward a small hotplate and turning it on. "You look upset." 

Papyrus flinched faintly, looking away as he moved to sit down. "You look content," he said, rather than address his own concerns. Alphys smiled faintly, shaking her head.

"You're always so worried about me," she said, her voice low and hushed as she prepared a bit of tea in a mug. "But this time, I think I should help you. You aren't usually this upset when you come here. This week has been rough on you, hasn't it?"

Papyrus sighed, lacing his phalanges together as he stared at the wall rather than Alphys. He could certainly bring up Gaster, but the doctor had a point. Alphys was innocent of the darkness from the war, and it was up to him to protect that innocence. And yet... glancing at the young scientist, Papyrus felt compelled to tell her something. He cast about for something she might be able to help with, and a memory flashed through his mind.

"It's Undyne," he said quietly, looking away again as he focused on the memory of Undyne and Muffet training against his wishes. With something specific to think about, his brain allowed Gaster's accusations to fade to the background. "I've tried to guide her towards a peaceful life, Alphys, but..." He trailed off, frustrated but unwilling to malign the exuberant girl.

Alphys laughed softly, setting the tea down beside him before making her way back over to her beaker. "She wants to be like you, Papyrus," she pointed out. Her voice was soft, but tender instead of shy. Papyrus looked up at the change, watching her thoughtfully. "She tells everyone who'll listen about you, you know."

"It's not that I don't think she's capable," Papyrus hedged awkwardly. "It's just..."

"You want a happier life for her, don't you?" Alphys asked, stirring a new liquid into the beaker with smooth movements. Papyrus sipped his tea, watching Alphys work as he hummed an agreement. Here in the lab, Alphys was in her element, and when she was working with science, she was confident in a way he didn't see otherwise. "Of course you do," she continued, glancing up at him as she continued to stir. "But... why wouldn't what she wants be a happy thing, Papyrus?"

The question caught Papyrus off-guard, and he looked away with a grimace. It was a valid question for anyone who hadn't had direct dealings with Asgore, and the knowledge weighed him down. "Because... she is passionate," he said finally, picking his words carefully.

"So are you," Alphys countered, her attention fully on Papyrus as her stirring slowed. "You've always been so determined to protect us, Papyrus. Everyone knows it." He looked back at Alphys in surprise, and she grinned. "So why would following in your footsteps diminish her passion?" she asked. "It would... OW!" She jerked her hand back as the beaker suddenly bubbled over, splattering the steel table with blue liquid.

Immediately, Papyrus was on his feet and moving to her. "Wash your hand off, Alphys," he directed, his attention on the danger rather than their conversation. "What is this, anyway?"

"I thought... maybe if I analyzed the magic of the Barrier, I could... come up with a compound that would mimic a human soul," she explained, rinsing the liquid off of her hand and looking down at the light burn it had left with a grimace. At the table, Papyrus growled faintly.

"A request by the king?" he whispered, fighting the urge to smash the beaker. 

"If I can mimic a human soul," Alphys said, moving to stand beside him, "then perhaps we can destroy the Barrier with it." She looked up at the tall skeleton with wide, fearful eyes. "That's a good thing, right?"

"It is," Papyrus gritted out. When Alphys reached toward the beaker, however, his hand shot out and gripped her wrist. "...I'll clean it," he said softly. "It hurt you." Alphys stared up at him in surprise for a long minute, then smiled shyly and stepped back as Papyrus retrieved rags and wet them down. As he moved to mop up the liquid, he tensed, then delicately dipped a distal phalanx in the puddle on the table. There was the faintest feel of fizzle against his bone, but it died quickly. Surprised, he dipped his finger in a little deeper. Nothing happened.

Relaxing once he'd assured that the compound was inert, he mopped it up slowly. "I'm sorry, Alphys. I should not have distracted you." He felt so... tired... "Once this is clean, I will go so that you may continue." He glanced over to where she sat nearby, her hands twisted together in her lap and her eyes locked on the burn. "In the meantime, you should get yourself some popato chisps from the machine," he directed. 

Given direction, Alphys pulled herself out of her thoughts enough to waddle off. Left alone, Papyrus continued to clean carefully, his thoughts lingering on Undyne. The job had destroyed so much of his own passion... would it do the same to her? Did he dare to chance finding out?

\-----

"Heya," Sans said, sliding onto a stool beside Amalia at the bar. She glanced over in surprise, then grinned shyly, more relaxed than she'd been when they parted ways outside of his waystation. "You look better. Figure out something to make yourself feel better?"

Hesitantly, she patted the notebook between them and nodded. "I went back to the inn and organized my notes. It's not very impressive. They're still all over the notebook, but now I have annotations to help me connect them." She dipped one of her French fries in ketchup and nibbled at it. "If I can remember everything, then maybe..."

"Maybe you can keep yourself from... heh," Sans sighed. "Still beatin' yourself up over that?" She jerked her eyes to him, narrowed slightly behind the thick lenses of her glasses, and he blinked. "What, kiddo?"

"Was that a pun?" she asked, smirking when he choked as he realized.

"Nah," he shook his head, reaching up to scratch at the back of his skull. "I just don't think you should be focusing on it so much." As he looked over her expression, he sighed. "But you're going to, aren't you?"

She shrugged, turning back to her dinner with a sad smile. "We talked about it, Sans. I can't let it happen again. I didn't want to before, but.... Papyrus believes in me now. I don't want to let him down." The sad way he looked down at the bar confused her, and she opened her mouth to ask about it, but before she could say anything, he spoke up.

"I kinda knew you wouldn't let it go so easy. I asked Gyftrot if he'd mind talking to you about it. Maybe if you explain while everything's calm..." As he started, she began to shake her head, but the action slowed.

"Wait...," she whispered, turning surprised eyes to him. "You mean... he would be willing to talk to me?" Her lips remained parted slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at him, and Sans offered a wide grin.

"Yeah," he nodded. "He wants to hear your side of it. In fact, he's ready to meet you now," he added, gesturing to the door.

Amalia twisted sharply in her seat, then scrambled with her bag, trying to dig out the money for her dinner from her dwindling supply of coins. As her fingers fumbled with the ties, Sans waved a hand in front of her. "Go ahead. I've got this," he promised. She jerked a sharp nod, slipping off the stool and grabbing her notebook to her chest even as she hurried toward the door.

Stumbling out into the snow, she looked around sharply before her eyes caught sight of Gyftrot standing near a couple of pale blue flowers. Biting her lower lip, Amalia took a few steps toward him, watching as his eyes narrowed in caution. But he didn't turn away. Bolstered by that, Amalia made her way over.

Gyftrot opened his mouth to say something, and Amalia panicked. "I'm sorry!" she blurted out, her knuckles white where they clutched at her notebook. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear I didn't."

"Sans said," he muttered, just staring at her. Under his attention, Amalia's eyes dropped to the snow at her feet. "He said you were really upset about it. Are you?" The distrustful words made her flinch.

"I... don't think I can make it up to you," she whispered slowly. "But I'm going to work hard to keep myself from ever making that mistake again." Drawing a breath, she lifted her eyes to meet his, willing him to see the promise inside her. "I think if I study hard enough, maybe I can keep myself from being surprised, and then I won't lose control like that," she added.

Gyftrot stepped forward a pace, stretching his head toward her slightly as he analyzed her expression. Behind her, she heard the door to Grillby's open and close, and footsteps approaching, and she tensed but remained looking at Gyftrot.

"Having a good chat?" Sans asked, stopping just behind her. He set a hand on her shoulder, and she slowly relaxed, not turning to look back at him. Instead, her eyes held Gyftrot's until the monster finally huffed a sigh.

"I hope you're serious about that studying," he said, his voice a little warmer than it'd been. "If you give up..."

"I won't!" she promised hurriedly, tugging free of Sans' hand as she shook her head vehemently. Behind her, Sans snorted a faint laugh. "I'll keep at it until I'm not a danger to anyone, I promise!"

Gyftrot's eyes shifted from Amalia to Sans, staring at the skeleton sharply for a long minute before he inclined his head. "I'll hold you to that promise," he said softly, turning to go. 

Released from his stare, Amalia sagged back a little, then jumped forward when her back touched Sans' chest. "Sorry," she gasped out, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a vivid red as she turned to look at Sans. He stared back at her, silent for a moment as blue dusted his cheekbones, and then he shook his head.

"It's okay," he said, turning back toward Grillby's. "Coming? I told Grillby to save your food for ya. Knew it wouldn't take you two long to sort things out." Amalia stared after him for a moment, then tugged her hoodie tighter around her and hurried after him.

"Thanks, Sans," she murmured, a soft smile on her lips.

\-----

Papyrus sighed as he closed the door behind him, his shoulder slumping slightly. It felt good to be home: safe and far from the worries that plagued him. He lifted a hand to rub against his forehead before moving to head toward the kitchen. As he moved, he caught sight of Sans slumped on the couch, and blinked.

"You're not with your friend, Sans?" he asked, pausing at the door to the kitchen so that he could look at his brother. Sans slouched down deeper into the couch, his eyes slanted away from Papyrus.

"That a problem?" Sans asked slowly, and Papyrus frowned. Abandoning his idea of dinner, he turned back to the living room. In a few strides, he was settled in the opposite corner of the couch, just watching Sans thoughtfully as Sans sighed. "It was a rough day for her. I figured she could use the rest, so I took her back to the inn."

"A rough day?" Papyrus asked sharply, his sharp eyes catching the way Sans tensed. "Sans, what happened?!"

"You really care about her, don'tcha?" Sans muttered, not looking at his brother. "Good. I'm glad." 

"You're not," Papyrus countered, frowning at Sans thoughtfully. "But you wanted me to spend time with her." He rose, striding around until he could stare down at the slouched figure. "There's something going on in your head that you're not telling me, isn't there, Brother? Did something happen to her?"

"To her? Nah," Sans latched onto the question, relieved to have something he could easily answer. Papyrus could see the way he relaxed minutely. "She was still really down on herself about what happened with Gyftrot, so I arranged for them to talk is all. It worked out."

Papyrus leaned in a touch, his eyes narrowed at Sans. "Then what is bothering you, Brother? Is it that she wants to be more than a friend to you? Do you think I will disapprove because she's a human?" 

To his surprise, Sans shoved himself to his feet, stalking away from Papyrus. He paused for a moment on the other side of the room, then turned to begin pacing anxiously. "I'm not the one she's interested in, Papyrus!" As he spoke, he gestured sharply with his hands. "You are. And you like her, too, don't you?"

Papyrus stared at Sans for a long moment before he leaned back slightly, his browbones furrowed. "This is one of your jokes?" he asked softly, and was rewarded with Sans jerking to a stop to stare at him through eyes that glowed a faint cyan. The sight of that glow stunned Papyrus, and within a moment, he was striding forward to catch Sans' shoulder. "You really mean that, don't you? You think... Sans, no."

Sans jerked away, then stopped himself, bringing a hand to cover his face. "I'm sorry, Papyrus," he whispered. "I'm being an idiot. It's fine. It's..."

"It's not fine!" Papyrus said firmly, folding his arms over his chest and staring down at his brother. "She cares about you. The two of you care about each other, in fact." His eyes, narrowed and piercing, glowed faintly green.

Sans looked up, then looked away. "She loves you," he argued, but the words were weaker than they'd been before. When Papyrus approached again, he remained still.

"Sans," Papyrus whispered, his voice gentle. "She loves you. And if she does have some interest in me, it doesn't matter, because I have no interest in her. Not that way, anyway." He saw the way Sans looked up at him warily, and smiled sadly. "I am her friend because she's important to you, Sans. And because she seems to be more honorable than I would have expected from a human. But... I have no interest in her beyond that." He reached out a hand to rest on Sans' shoulder again, and the smaller skeleton let him. 

"You, however, clearly have such an interest." Papyrus could feel the way Sans tensed at the words, and he sighed gently. "It's all right to care, Sans. I will protect your heart with everything within me. If she is important to you, then let her be important to you. I will be her friend." The green glow in his eyes was vivid as he spoke, and Sans slowly began to relax.

"I thought you'd... disapprove," Sans muttered awkwardly. Papyrus simply chuckled.

"I thought I would, too," he admitted. "But your happiness is important to me. I've always known it, but when she arrived, it took others pointing it out to remind me of just how important. Amalia makes you smile."

"Yeah," Sans nodded, his eyes on the floor as the blue glow faded. "Yeah, she does."

"You should tell her that," Papyrus advised gently. "I think she should be aware of how important she is to you. It will help her make the right choices."

"Papyrus," Sans began, his voice slow and awkward as he started to look up to Papyrus. The taller skeleton waved off the look, turning away to head toward the kitchen.

"Have you eaten, Sans?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject. It took Sans nearly two full minutes before he padded into the kitchen after Papyrus. 

"...I had dinner with her..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize to my readers for this chapter taking SO long to write. Between real life and the trouble Gaster was giving me, I just could NOT get it down!
> 
> However, now that I'm back in the swing of things and taking the summer off from school, I have hopes of having a slightly more readable update schedule!
> 
> I've signed up for Camp Nanowrimo - I plan to update Obstacles, Without You, and another story I'm toying with during July. If anyone is interested in joining in the fun in my cabin, we'd be glad to have you! Feel free to contact me here or on [tumblr](http://thegreatwordologist.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Finally, I cannot thank [The Adorable Occult](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theadorableoccult) enough for all the help she's given me with encouragement and support in this story, and this chapter in specific. She's been a rock and a muse, and I'm really lucky to have her around!
> 
> If you have questions about the fic, you're more than welcome to visit the [series tumblr](http://colortales.tumblr.com/) to ask. I hope everyone enjoys!


	8. A Sense of Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock knock...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two people to thank for keeping me going on this chapter. As always, [The Adorable Occult](http://theadorableoccult.tumblr.com/) is a wonderful plot-partner and goader, keeping me going by being a **fantastic** friend who listens to my weird ramblings. Torch+Stélechos is a new friend who dug into the story recently, and their comments on the fic fired me up when the characters were giving me so much trouble.
> 
> Thank you, both of you. You're fantastic!

"Who mans the stations in the forest?" Amalia asked, as she approached the waystation where Sans sat, her bag over one shoulder and her hoodie zipped up tight, with the hood drawn up to hide her hair. Without asking, she ducked into the station and sat down beside Sans, half-grinning at him as he shook his head.

"Most of the time, no one does," Sans shrugged, shifting so that he could watch her more easily as he kept an eye on the front of the station. He leaned his skull on one hand, smile amused as he considered her. "Every so often, Papyrus sends someone to check the stock and refill it, but otherwise, it's not really that big a deal." His eye sockets narrowed a little, and he smirked. "Been using the stock?"

Amalia blushed faintly, setting her notebook on the counter and opening it to an early page to show him the notes on the station. "You were right about how cold it is here," she admitted. "That orange stuff... It really helps."

Sans laughed, nodding as he let his eyes slide shut lazily. "The Hot Sauce? Yeah, Grillby makes it. Lotta the monsters around here can handle the cold, but sometimes, there's one or two that come to visit from Waterfall or Hotland or something, and they need a little help. I'll go out in a few days and check the stocks, don't worry."

She nodded, falling silent as she turned the early pages in her notebook back and forth. After several minutes of staring down at them silently, she stopped on a picture of Toriel, and reached to touch it with her free hand. Sans peered over her shoulder, tilting his head as he considered the picture before finally deciding to break her out of her reverie. "So... who's that?"

Amalia blinked, looking over at Sans for a moment before her cheeks darkened and she looked away. "H-her name is Toriel," she admitted softly, reaching to close the notebook. Sans was too fast for her, however. His hand slipped into the book just as it closed, and he nudged it open again, right back to the page with Toriel's picture on it. The name resonated with him, reminding him of earlier times. He ignored that.

"A friend of yours?" he asked instead, frowning when Amalia's shoulders hunched in, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of the hoodie. "What's wrong, kid?"

"I miss her," Amalia whispered, biting her lower lip. "I don't even... it was so strange when I fell down here, and Toriel found me. I could've stayed with her, but I thought I had to get home." Her glasses magnified the sad look in her eyes as she glanced at Sans, then away again. "I keep going back to the door, but she never answers." 

Sans watched Amalia for a moment, then got to his feet, gesturing for Amalia to follow suit. She was slower to rise, but eventually, she was back on her feet, stuffing the notebook in her bag. Once situated, she tucked her hands into her pockets and fell into step beside the skeleton as he started toward the door. She knew where he was headed. It didn't take a genius to figure out, when the door was really the only thing in that direction. But maybe he could do something she hadn't tried.

\---

Papyrus slid onto a stool in Grillby's, lacing his fingers together as he stared at the mirror on the back of the bar. Sans hadn't been at his station, or around the bar when Papyrus had arrived, which suggested he was out with Amalia again. He had considered turning and leaving again, but... it had been some time since he'd stopped by to see the fire elemental. That thought left him settled at the bar, debating what he'd have to drink as Grillby approached.

"It's been a while," Grillby crackled, after a few seconds. Without asking Papyrus what he wanted, Grillby took a glass and poured out a portion of the amber liquid before setting it in front of him. Papyrus blinked at the whiskey, then offered Grillby a wry smile.

"It's been too long," he apologized softly. "But you remembered, all the same." He took a sip of the whiskey, his eye-sockets closing as he savored the faint hints of toffee buried in the burn. Grillby watched silently until Papyrus opened his eyes again, and the two looked at each other. Papyrus was the first to break the eye contact, looking down at the liquid.

"You're not here to visit," Grillby popped and hissed, amusement coloring his firespeech. Papyrus grimaced, and Grillby moved to lean against the back wall, arms folded over his chest. "You're worried about your brother, aren't you?"

"Is it so obvious?" Papyrus grimaced.

"I've known you a very long time now, Papyrus," Grillby pointed out patiently. As Grillby continued to watch Papyrus, the skeleton huffed.

"It's his obsession with... her," he explained awkwardly, but Grillby just nodded in understanding. The fire elemental waited for Papyrus to say more, and after a healthy pull from his drink, Papyrus obliged. "I want him to be happy. You remember how things were when we were first trapped here, right?"

"You mean when the magic backlashed," Grillby pointed out, and Papyrus huffed.

"Yes, yes I do. He had plans before that, and they didn't include me!" He drummed his phalanges on the bar, listening to the clicks as he chewed his lower lip. "That isn't a bad thing. He shouldn't have had to reorder his whole life because of me, but he did."

Grillby stared at the tapping hand and smiled sadly. "Your brother is capable of making his own choices in life, you know. He didn't have to reorder his life. He chose to."

"This thing with... with her... can't end well, can it?" Papyrus demanded abruptly, looking up at Grillby with sad eyes. "I mean, she's a..." He couldn't quite bring himself to say the word, and after a few choked seconds, he shook his head. "It can't end well."

"It can," Grillby countered, reaching out to set one hand on Papyrus' shoulder. The skeleton looked up at him, and Grillby's smile turned paternal. "She and your brother have spent some time at the bar talking. She might be just what's needed to heal some of the pain in this place."

Involuntarily, Papyrus glanced toward New Home. He knew exactly which direction it was, and though his eyes met only wall, they didn't matter. His eyes weren't really looking. It was his mind staring straight at Asgore.

Grillby knew, too. "Yes," he said quietly, his eyes sad and warm. "Exactly."

Papyrus looked at Grillby again, and smiled softly. "Thank you, Grillby," he said softly, getting to his feet. He tipped the drink back, finishing the last of it, and feeling the magic spread through him. He moved to leave some gold on the bar, but Grillby waved it away.

"When you have time, I have a couple of new recipes to teach you," the fire elemental offered instead. Papyrus nodded, more relaxed at the reminder of better times. 

"I'll let you know soon," he promised, before heading out of the bar. He had a patrol to finish.

\---

For a long time, they walked in silence. Her hands remained tucked into her pockets, her elbows drawn a little closer to her sides in a pseudo-half-hug. She stared at the way the pathway seemed to remain mostly-clear of snow, despite the drifts to either side. She listened to the way their footsteps broke the silence with faint crunches as the snow was crushed underfoot. She tried very, very hard not to think about what she'd told him about Toriel... and what she hadn't - until he spoke up.

"So... Toriel," he started, and though he didn't look at her, she could hear the awkward grimace in his voice. "You wanted to stay with her?" The question caught her off-guard, and she risked a quick look over at him. He was staring resolutely ahead, his ever-present smile just a bit weaker. Her chest tightened as she thought about the question, and she looked back at the path.

"No," she admitted softly. "She was wonderful, but I couldn't stay there. Sometimes I wish I could've." Her hands pulled free of her pockets so that she could wrap her arms around herself. Even whispering the words felt like a lie, because she knew how she'd felt in Toriel's home.

"Yeah, well," Sans muttered, his steps slowing as he tried to figure out something to say. She matched the slower pace without thought. "Kinda glad you didn't, really. We don't go past the door." Left unspoken was the knowledge that if she hadn't left Toriel, she never would have met Sans, but it was not unfelt. 

"Toriel's home didn't feel right," she whispered, one arm uncurling around herself. She reached out slowly until her hand met Sans', and their fingers twined around each other lightly. Blushing faintly, she turned her head away so that her eyes met the dark line of trees to the side of the path. "...Snowdin's pretty comfortable, though."

Startled at the admission, Sans' grip tightened on hers briefly, and she bit her lower lip. Reaching up with her free hand, she adjusted her glasses, using the move to conceal the dampness in her eyes.

"It is, huh?"

"It feels more like home than the families they put me with on the Surface," she whispered softly, not quite sure why she wanted him to know that. His steps slowed, and she risked a glance at his face, but the smile hid what he was thinking, and his eyes were locked straight ahead.

She looked over to see what he was looking at, and realized their walk had ended. The door was there, looming over them.

\---

"Ah, Papyrus," Asgore said as Papyrus entered the throne room, his feet clicking on the stone floor. The king rose from where he'd been tending the flowers, turning to face Papyrus with a smile. That smile made Papyrus' soul quail a little. It held no real warmth to it. It was more a showing of teeth than an actual smile, and Papyrus fought the urge to shiver. Instead, he nodded to Asgore calmly.

"I've come to make my report," he offered, keeping his voice even. Asgore nodded, turning away from his flowers to make his way to a small table in the corner. On it sat two teacups, one mostly-empty and the other over half-full with cooled tea. Asgore poured more tea into the empty one, then tapped a sheaf of papers sitting near the other cup. Papyrus knew what they were even before he saw the equations circled in red.

"Dr. Gaster visited earlier," Asgore rumbled, his voice amiable. "He was kind enough to share more information about the magical fluctuations he noticed before." Without asking Papyrus if he would like tea, Asgore moved to retrieve a new teacup from a nearby stone shelf and pour tea into it.

Papyrus felt frozen to the spot, unable to quite figure out what he wanted to say to the king. _Discredit me_. The thought floated through his mind, circling around and around, and sounded more like a command than an inquiry each time. As the king handed the teacup over, Papyrus took it in a delicate grasp. He was stunned that his hands weren't shaking.

"What information did he have to share?" he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. Asgore looked over at him thoughtfully for a moment, then moved to sit down at the table, gesturing to the other seat with royal grace.

"You were young during the war, were you not?" Asgore asked. Papyrus didn't answer. He could sense that the question was entirely rhetorical. Instead, he sat down, sipping at his tea as he waited for Asgore to continue. "Dr. Gaster was not," the king continued after a pause. Papyrus looked down at his drink as he cast about for something to say, and the golden liquid offered no answers.

"Papyrus," Asgore pressed, breaking into Papyrus's thoughts with a firm voice. Papyrus looked back up at Asgore, and to his surprise, the king's expression had warmed. Asgore was smiling at him once more, but the smile had shifted back, and Papyrus was staring once more at the fatherly figure he'd known for so long. "I know it was a difficult time for you and your brother. I don't mean to bring up bad memories." The words, so full of compassion, gave Papyrus a jolt.

Sans.

"I understand why you've brought up the war, Asgore," Papyrus assured the king quietly. He sipped at his tea once more, then set the cup down. "But you don't need to worry. I stopped by to speak to Dr. Gaster myself after you mentioned him before. I've already seen his findings." Asgore's eyes narrowed at Papyrus slightly, and the skeleton steeled himself. _Discredit me_.

"He believes the fluctuations indicate there's a human in the Underground, so I'm stepping up patrols." He nodded to the stack of notes toward the middle of the table. "The reports indicate there maycate there may be a presence within Waterfall or Snowdin, so I'll be patrolling those areas with particular focus. Rest assured, your Majesty, that I will find the source of the fluctuations that concern Dr. Gaster." He met Asgore's eyes, and the king's brief return to compassion had vanished.

Asgore leaned in, staring at Papyrus. As he spoke, his voice rumbled with old grief and anger. "Find the human, Papyrus," he directed softly. "Hand it over to Gaster and he will find a way to use it to free us from the Underground." In his lap, one massive hand curled into a fist. "Once we are free..."

Papyrus cut in before Asgore could continue. "I should go," he said, rising from his seat and turning toward the door. Once he was no longer looking at Asgore, the wave of fear faded. This was not the grief Papyrus was familiar with. This was something else... something darker. "I intend to do a last patrol before I check on Sans." He forced his steps to remain slow and measured, his soul quailing a little at the fear that rocked him. The king had not seemed himself.

"Find the fluctuation, Papyrus." The final command echoed after Papyrus.

\---

"It's less imposing from the other side," Amalia whispered, not looking at the door in front of them. Ignoring Sans' concerned gaze, she moved to a tree and planted her back against it, then dropped down. The warmth from the last dose of Hot Sauce still infused her, protecting her from the cold of the snow against her jeans, but she tugged the hoodie tighter around her anyway. Sans hesitated, then settled beside her, watching her closely. Amalia fought to find the words to explain to him why it hurt, but eventually she gave up and leaned back against the tree.

"You ever... wanna go back?" Sans finally asked, when the silence between them had grown into something heavy and dark. Amalia shook her head. 

"She was nice," she started, flinching a little at the roughness in her voice. "I miss talking to her." Despite the heaviness in her heart, a faint smile quirked her lips. She felt the tug of emotion, and got to her feet again, though she hadn't been sitting all that long. Sitting still in the snow felt wrong somehow, almost like a trap, so she padded toward the door, listening to the crunch of snow underfoot. Standing in front of the stone, she reached out to spread a hand against the smooth door, stroking it with her fingertips as she explored the marble surface.

"What'd you two talk about?" Sans' voice came from just behind her, and she started a little. She hadn't heard him move, too lost in her own thoughts to notice. She turned her head to look at him, a little surprised to see him so close, and he reached out beside her, spreading his hand near hers. Staring at the two hands, she answered softly. 

"We made a lot of jokes." Behind her, Sans looked at her sharply. "I think she might've been a bit lonely. She wanted me to stay with her." She paused before reaching up to tap on the door with her knuckles. "Knock knock," she whispered.

When no one answered, Amalia turned away from the door, sitting down with her back against it. It was easier somehow to face the dark line of trees. Sans remained where he was for a moment, then reached out to rest one hand on the top of her head. The action was companionable, and the feel of his bones resting buried in her blonde strands tickled faintly, soothing her. For a long time, there was silence between them. Sans continued to stroke her hair lightly, and she remained still, her eyes closed as she focused on the comforting touch. When the silence finally broke, she was the one breaking it.

"She reminded me of this teacher I had a few years ago," Amalia confided softly. "The teacher... he was nice. He was funny, too. He had a joke every day." She smiled softly. "At the end of the year, I didn't want to go. But... that's the way life works, isn't it? Eventually you just have to move on." 

Sans considered the words silently for a bit before asking, "Is that why you left Toriel? Because you had to move on?" His voice sounded oddly pained, and Amalia looked up at him from where she sat. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, he shook his head, waving her away before she could even make a sound. She closed her mouth again, then shook her head and started once more.

"Why are you upset?"

"Do you really just move on?" Sans finally asked, his hand falling still in her hair. Her eyes dropped away as she frowned in contemplation. "Is it really that easy for you?" he clarified after a moment.

And that's when it clicked. Her eyes shot back to his, wide blue meeting tiny white pinpricks, and she shifted from under his hand so that she could reach up and catch it. "No," she admitted, once their fingers were twined together. "No, it's not. I just... there's not a choice, is there?"

Sans tugged his hand free and moved to sit down beside her. They didn't touch, seated like that, but she was constantly aware of his presence. After a bit, her eyes drifted closed once more and she sighed softly. Still wrapped in her thoughts, she almost missed the faint tap of bone against stone. What really caught her attention were the words that accompanied the tap.

"Knock knock."

Her chest ached at the words, and she wrapped her arms around herself, burying her face in the grey fur ruff of her hoodie as she tried to fight the pain. "...Who's there?" she finally whispered, when she could trust her voice to be reasonably steady. She dared a quick glance at Sans, but he stared out at the treeline.

"Iris."

His voice was soft and miserable. It made Amalia's chest ache more, and she reached out to twine her fingers with his again, expecting him to pull away. Instead, he squeezed lightly. When she could finally respond, her words sounded thick. "Iris who?"

It wasn't until he'd pulled her into a hug that she realized she was crying. When he whispered his answer near her ear, it just made her cry harder.

"Iris you'd stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's coming up on July, which means CAMP NANOWRIMO!!!! I'm participating (and Obstacles is one of my projects for that month). If anyone would like to join my cabin, please let me know! We're definitely open to friendly new faces!


	9. New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to protect Amalia than by keeping her close?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to all the help [The Adorable Occult](http://theadorableoccult.tumblr.com/) has given me for this story, I've got an extra beta-plotter now! My daughter, [Dreams in Flame](http://dreamsinflame.tumblr.com/) helped me sort out the last couple of scenes of this chapter. Also, she's been super-supportive and encouraging, and deserves a massive shoutout!
> 
> Also, [Torch+Stélechos](http://torchstelechos.tumblr.com/) surprised me with some [AWESOME fanart of Amalia](http://colortales.tumblr.com/post/147160841106/thegreatwordologist-torchstelechos-here-we)! I'm really flattered and excited, and it may have spawned some additional ideas in my mind about the plot. Go and check it out~

Amalia had been almost grateful when Sans mentioned having to work later, declining his invitation to join him. She felt raw after all the crying, and their walk back toward Snowdin had been silent. Even an hour later, as she left the dump for dry land, Sans' soft plea echoed in her head. She hadn't answered him when he asked, and as she cried in his arms, he hadn't pushed for anything more. His eyes had been dimmer when she'd left, but what she wanted to say was still so knotted inside her that she'd barely murmured a goodbye. The memories ate at her, so loud inside her head they blotted out her attention for anything else.

A chuckle brought her back to herself.

"You look a bit lost there, kid." Amalia's eyes jerked up to see a large turtle standing in front of her. As her eyes widened, she took a step back, clutching her notebook to her chest with both arms. Gerson's eyes narrowed a bit as he analyzed her. "And a bit scared. What's got you so on edge, anyway?"

"I... I don't," she stammered out, then took another step backward as he shrugged. "I mean..."

"Okay there," he assured her in a soft tenor. "You just seemed a little distant." He lumbered to a seat near her, leaning his shell against the wall of the cave and tilting his pith helmet back so that he could see her better, then smiled. "You're new here."

"I... yes... how did you...?" She stumbled over the words, stopping as he flapped a hand at her in amusement. His chuckles rang out against the stone, and slowly Amalia sank down in front of him, watching him quietly.

"You're human. Humans haven't been down here for a while now," he explained gently. Her eyes searched his, and finally she could see the carefully-concealed caution in his gaze. She swallowed and looked away sharply.

"I'm Amalia." Her words were whispered and hesitant. Under his regard, she began to fiddle with the end of the metal coil to her notebook, anxiously straightening it and then trying to curl it back in a perfect arc. 

"Amalia," he finally mused, when she said nothing else. "You know, it's been a while since I talked to a human." When she darted a look of surprise up to him, he grinned at her. "You think you're the first human I've ever talked to, kid? Wahaha, no, I've known a few in my day." 

His eyes narrowed in playful amusement, and he reached out one hand to ruffle her hair, his movements slow enough to broadcast his intentions. At first, she ducked away from the touch, but when his hand froze mid-air, she squared her shoulders and looked up at him before nodding minutely. His grin widened, and he rubbed her scalp briefly before dropping his hand back down. "You remind me of someone, actually," he continued, looking up at the crystal-studded ceiling above. 

"Who do I remind you of?" she asked as she combed her fingers through her hair to set it back to rights. With that done, she set her notebook aside so that she could tug a pencil out of her bag. He didn't seem to notice as she settled in to take notes.

"My niece was a shy one like you," he murmured, the words low and a little sad. 

Amalia flinched slightly, reaching out to touch his arm. When he looked back at her, she simply asked, "Was?"

"That was years ago, back before the war," Gerson explained, his eyes distant once more. "She was always so anxious about being noticed. It was hard for her to deal with others. Took her quite a while to warm up to an old monster like me. Wahaha." His sad laugh made Amalia's chest ache, and she set her notebook aside to catch his hand in hers.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't rightly know," he admitted sadly. "I suppose for me, the war took 'er. It's explanation enough, isn't it, after all?"

"Explanation enough?" Amalia asked in confusion. "I mean... if the war took her, then wouldn't she be..." Her eyes widened just before she finished the thought, her cheeks flushing shame that she came close to even saying the word, but Gerson waved her embarrassment away.

"Well, now perhaps. But no, she and her dad... they were humans. When we were forced here, the others forced my sister to leave her family behind." He sighed heavily, tears sparking in his eyes as he thought about the past. "It was a rough... oh!" he choked out, as Amalia threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged tightly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shame and compassion in her voice. He could feel the damp of her tears against his cheek, and he smiled sadly.

"My sister would've liked you," he whispered, one arm curling around her to return the hug... and the comfort. "Even after, she would've liked you." As she settled back to the ground, his eyes were warm and gentle. The caution she'd seen banked in his gaze was gone, replaced by a gentle compassion. "She understood better than most that not all humans were cut from the same cloth." 

"What happened to her?" Amalia asked, her own voice as muted as his. Even though she expected the tiny flinch when it came, it didn't stop her from reaching out to catch his hand and hold it, and he responded with a faint smile.

"She Fell a few years after the Barrier closed us in. She missed her husband, you see." Although Amalia didn't understand exactly what he meant by 'Fell', the implications were clear. 

"What about you?" Amalia breathed, horror in her eyes.

"Sometimes, kid, the heartbreak is just too much," Gerson told her gently, and patted her hand as the tears came once more. He watched her scrub at her cheeks, seeing shame and self-hate creep into her eyes, and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "But you had nothing to do with that, kid. Those humans... they're gone now. They've been gone for a very long time." As she lifted her eyes to his, he saw the bloodshot brightness and nodded. "And you're one of the good ones."

\-----

"Amalia!" Papyrus called, spotting her ahead of him at the edge of Waterfall. She paused, turning back and looking startled when she spotted him. But as she smiled slowly, he found himself smiling back, a flutter of warmth in his chest. He caught up to her, his eye sockets narrowing sharply as he noticed a redness around her eyes. "Something was wrong, wasn't it?"

"Most people say 'how are you?' first?" she tried, an awkward smile on her lips as she gestured for him to walk with her. The tall skeleton sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder when she refused to look at him as they walked. It was a silent request, but she understood it all the same.

"I met another monster today," she explained softly, clutching her notebook against her chest. "He lives over in Waterfall, I think." She looked up at Papyrus finally, her eyes searching his skull. "He told me more about the war. It... it was really awful for you, wasn't it?"

Warning bells rang out in Papyrus' mind, and he froze, turning to look back toward Waterfall. "...Gerson," he whispered, the hand at his side clenching into a fist.

"Papyrus?" she asked, startled by his reaction. "Papyrus! He's okay! He was really nice to me," she said, finally reaching out to catch his wrist and tug lightly. When he looked down at her, he registered the terror in her eyes. The sight of it was enough to pull him back to himself.

"No, I'm sorry, Amalia," he apologized sadly. "I just... of all the monsters out there, few would recognize a human as quickly as Gerson. But if he didn't realize what you were, I suppose it's all right."

She frowned at that, tugging free of Papyrus' hand. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Of course he knew what I was. I mean, hasn't... hasn't everyone?" Her brows drew together in worry. "...Did Gyftrot understand what I was?"

Papyrus sighed heavily, gesturing toward his house. He was grateful when she seemed to understand that he wanted to talk in private and fell silent until they were settled inside. As he closed the door behind them, she made her way over to the couch, her bag dropped to the floor just beside the couch moments before she dropped onto it. "Gyftrot has no idea I'm a human, right?"

It was barely a question, but Papyrus nodded all the same. He moved to sit near her, turned to face her as she stared at the wall. "Sans and I haven't... advertised what you are," he admitted softly. "It could be... dangerous."

"For you?" Amalia asked softly, worry in her eyes as she stared at Papyrus. The skeleton blinked, barking a short laugh as he shook his head.

"No, Amalia. For you. Our king is angry still." He sighed tiredly. Even thinking about Asgore's anger tired him. So much potential was wrapped up in this small human package, but if Asgore never stopped to listen, it would all be wasted.

"Because of the war?" Amalia guessed in a tiny voice.

"Hmm? Oh, not just the war," Papyrus shook his head, turning and taking one of Amalia's hands in his, patting it for comfort. "Even after the war, there was a time when he valued humans. The first human to fall down here after the Barrier was erected became his child. For a time, he was at peace." Papyrus heard his voice trail off and knew the question was coming even before she asked it.

"What happened?"

Her eyes were riveted on him, Papyrus realized, her hand unmoving under his. But in her face, there was a dread anxiety. He wished briefly that Sans would return from work to soothe her. But with no Sans, it remained up to him.

"They got sick," Papyrus whispered softly. His eyes were dim. "I didn't know them. This was before I became the head of the Royal Guard." It ached, thinking about it, and he drew his hand away. What he didn't expect was for Amalia to move to sit tucked against him. "...Human?"

"They died, didn't they?" she asked, her voice a bare breath of sound. 

"...Yes," Papyrus finally nodded. "They died. His son returned them to the humans..."

Amalia jerked away, twisting to stare at Papyrus with horrified eyes as she realized the implications immediately. "No! Papyrus, no!"

Papyrus stared at her for long minutes, marveling at the pain so naked on her face. "Amalia," he finally said, catching one of her hands in his. She clutched at the bare bone with a desperate grip, her eyes wide as she stared at him, and the command from Asgore roared in his mind. "You should live here."

"What?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the abrupt shift in conversation. 

"It would simplify a lot of things," Papyrus explained, even as he groaned at himself. What had he been thinking, to simply blurt it out that way? That wasn't how such things were handled! This required finesse, elegance. It required...

"No," Amalia shook her head, tugging free of him with an awkwardly polite smile. It took a moment for the skeleton to realize that she'd stiffened while he was beating himself up. "But... thank you for the offer." She rose from the couch as he stared at her in confusion. Scooping up her bag from where it slouched on the floor, she turned back to Papyrus with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It seemed almost painted on, tight and unnatural.

"Amalia," Papyrus said, starting to get to his feet. She just waved him back down. 

"I'm... going to go to Grillby's for dinner. I'm starting to get hungry," she explained. The words were weak and oddly stated, but she didn't try to explain further. As Papyrus simply stared after her in confusion, Amalia turned to make her way out the door. Once outside, she looked back at him, and there was a weird sadness in her eyes before she shut the door.

\-----

When Sans walked in the door later that evening, Papyrus was stretched out on the couch, his eyelights on the ceiling and a distinctly unhappy look on his face. The second he saw the look, chills pricked down his spine. "Bro?" he demanded as his soul pulsed in his chest and his hands clenched into fists. "Something happen?"

Papyrus sat up, pinning Sans with a heavy look as he considered the shorter skeleton. "I... suggested that Amalia may be safer staying here," he admitted, one hand reaching up to rub at the back of his skull. 

Sans dropped onto the couch with a heavy thump, glancing up toward the bedrooms. "Yeah?" he asked, relaxing. "Didn't see her in the kitchen. Whose room is she taking?"

"Sans, you don't understand!" Papyrus scowled, shoving up from the couch to pace back and forth across their living room. As Sans watched Papyrus work off the excess energy, the lights in his eyes dimmed slowly. "She said no! She said no and she left immediately! She didn't even explain herself!"

_Iris you'd stay._ "Said no, huh?" Sans asked softly, trying to ignore the way his soul sank. "Maybe that's a good thing?" he tried, knowing the words sounded hollow but not quite able to drum up energy to care. Papyrus stopped in his pacing to pin Sans with a frustrated look.

"In what way could it be a good thing, Sans?" he demanded, browbones drawn low over his sockets.

"She's not stickin' around," Sans shrugged, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to see Papyrus' fury. Or perhaps so that Papyrus didn't see his own upset. "I thought you didn't trust her."

The words were barely out when Sans felt Papyrus' hands gripping his humeri. Even in his agitated state, Papyrus' fingers were gentle in their grip, the way he'd trained himself to be. But the intensity was not lost on Sans. "That's not...! I didn't...! She met Gerson, Sans!" he finally managed, eyes a breath away from Sans'. 

"So?" Sans whispered, locked in place by Papyrus' grip and the fear in his little brother's eyes. "What's Gerson gonna do anyway?" Papyrus groaned, pulling away to pace again. His movements were more vehement than before. Sans sat forward slowly, staring at him. "...Papyrus?"

"Gerson and Asgore are friends, Sans. Had you forgotten that?" Papyrus bit out, his hands twisting together as he walked. "And Gerson knows what humans are. If he talked to Asgore about her presence in Snowdin..." He drew to a stop, rubbing his face with his hands. The comforting clack of bone against bone almost hid the sound of the door closing, and when Papyrus looked up, he was alone once more.

\-----

"Didn't expect to see you here," Gerson chuckled as he eyed the short skeleton at his door. He stepped back to let Sans into the room, and Sans looked around as he entered. He'd known of the turtle, certainly, but he'd never really sought Gerson out. There had been no real reason before.

...But now...

"Thanks," Sans muttered, turning to watch as Gerson closed the door and faced him. The two stood like that for a long minute, facing off against each other. Sans couldn't stop the annoyance he felt at Gerson's openly-amused expression, but he didn't say anything right away. The situation required a delicate touch, after all.

"You didn't come to chat with an old man like me," Gerson smirked, turning away from Sans to make his slow way toward the fridge in his kitchen. If he was concerned about why Sans had shown up, there was no evidence for it. He simply moved to pull out a bottle from the fridge and set up the stove so that a large pot of water was prepared for boiling.

"You met someone today," Sans said, watching Gerson's movements thoughtfully. The turtle placed the bottle into the water as it heated, then moved to slump down in a chair near the stove. Sans drifted closer.

"Yeah, I did," he agreed, looking at Sans thoughtfully. "A friend of yours, actually," he added with a smirk. "She talked about you quite a lot." Thick fingers laced together over the bottom of his shell as he smiled placidly. 

Sans swallowed at that, his eyelights brightening despite himself as he stared at Gerson. Derailed from his initial intentions, he stepped a pace forward. "What did she say?" His words were low and intense, and Gerson's smile widened.

"Wahahaha, worried about that, are you? Youngsters these days," he shook his head, his eyes closing slowly into a sort of content expression. "You've got a good one there, boy," he informed Sans. "But around here... well, you'd better be careful, hadn't you?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that," Sans noted, thrown back on track by Gerson's own words. His hands clenched into fists at his side, browbones arched in worry. He started to say more, but Gerson waved the words away before they could even leave his mouth.

"I'm not going to talk to old Fluffybuns," he assured Sans. "You don't have to worry about that." He watched Sans for a moment, then grinned widely, one eye closing in a slow wink. "You're a lot like your mom, you know that?" If the way Sans tensed bothered him, Gerson didn't let on. Instead, he just leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "She always did things the hard way, too. Especially when it came to your dad." His grin faded as his thoughts wandered.

"Gerson," Sans interrupted, his voice low and warning. The turtle ignored it.

"No one thought they'd go well together," he mused instead, a heaviness to his voice as thoughts of the war lingered. "She was such a serious one when they met. No one thought she'd have time for him." 

"Gerson," Sans growled again. Gerson ignored him still.

"They were better suited than anyone could've expected, really. He made her laugh, you see. Old W.D. didn't expect the two to get along, but pretty soon, he couldn't stand to be in the same room as 'em. They were obnoxious, really," he cackled, his eyes bright as good memories pushed aside the sad ones. Sans' hands were clenched tight, his teeth grinding together as Gerson continued. He opened his mouth to repeat Gerson's name in an attempt to catch Gerson's attention once more, but before he could speak, Gerson's head swiveled to pin Sans with a sharp look.

"I was there when you came into being," he said, the intensity in his voice matched with the vibrant stare from his yellow eyes. "Bet you forgot about that little tidbit, didn't you, boy?" Sans' voice stilled, his eyes widening at the reminder. But Gerson wasn't done. "You think I've gone soft in the head after all these years?"

Sans stepped back a pace. "...No," he started, and Gerson pushed himself to his feet. But instead of moving to loom over Sans, the turtle made his way over to the stove to stop the boiling water. He removed the bottle, then poured the warmed liquid into two mugs and brought them back to his table, setting one near his chair and the other on the opposite side. The smell of sun-bright ocean floated to Sans. After a moment, he sat down and wrapped his fingers around the mug of sea tea.

"I'm not going to talk to old Fluffybuns," Gerson repeated firmly, staring steadily at Sans. "The king's got his reasons to be hurt, but he's not going to blame the humans forever. He's smart enough to know the difference between a good egg and a bad one, after all." 

"If you think he's so reasonable," Sans started, and he couldn't silence the tang of disbelief in his voice, "then why aren't you going to talk to him about her?"

Gerson didn't answer right away. He sipped his sea tea, looking over to a picture on the wall with eyes that suddenly seemed faded and old. Sans followed his gaze, and was treated to an oddly-balanced picture. Gerson sat on one side, smiling widely and looking so very young, and the picture was centered on another turtle. The second turtle sported a vivid red shell and green-blue eyes that gleamed with happiness. Her arm was outstretched toward a blank space in the picture, and the background there seemed oddly unsaturated.

"Grief does funny things to your head, boy," Gerson explained finally, his words very soft. "And anger just makes those worse. I don't have to be the Royal Scientist to see Asgore's still grieving for his son." Sans looked at Gerson, then back at the picture as his eyesockets widened sharply.

"Did you..." he started, but Gerson cut him off before he could get the question out.

"That girl... she can bring hope back to the king," he said firmly. "She's got the sort of soul that can reach him, maybe even bring him out of his grief. She just needs time to find her way." He turned to spear Sans with a look again, and Sans shifted uncomfortably. "You don't need to worry about me, boy. I'll keep an eye out for her. You just make those parents of yours proud."

Unable to think of a response, Sans just sipped his sea tea.

\-----

The uncomfortable feeling had been growing within him ever since he'd knocked on Gerson's door. Throughout their conversation, the anxiety in his soul had been niggling at Sans, and Gerson's gentle admonishments hadn't helped. By the time he left, his soul was shaking within him, and he couldn't quite understand the need to search for her.

He also didn't expect to find her so near the edge to Hotland. 

"Where are you even going?" Sans demanded, darting in front of her before she'd even noticed him and glaring at her. Amalia blinked, then stumbled a step back. Her foot slipped on the damp grass, and Sans shot forward to catch her before she fell. To steady her, he dragged her tight against his ribs, staring at her with pinpoint eyelights. Amalia tensed in his arms.

"I... I'm a danger," she whispered, her hands rising to flutter against his ribs before curling awkwardly around his humeri. Her face rivaled lava with the way it heated and glowed red, and Sans' eyelights slowly softened. "I don't want to put anyone in danger, Sans," she pleaded, searching his skull without trying to pull away. A quick down-flick of his eyes revealed her soul shaking in her chest, trembling as though it might shatter into pieces at any moment. That sight rocked him.

"Amalia," he coaxed tenderly, reaching up to stroke the phalanges of his free hand over her cheek, and she shivered under his touch. After a moment, she tucked her forehead against the bones at the top of his spine, and his hold gentled. Gerson's observations came back to him full-force, and he shuddered. Down that path lay madness, didn't it? And yet...

"I'm a danger to everyone, Sans. Gerson told me how humans sealed you all away... how they forced families apart. Papyrus said the king is still mad." She nestled her face a little closer to his spine, and Sans tensed at the unfamiliar contact. "I know you want me to stay, but..."

"Then stay," Sans bit out harshly, tugging away from Amalia enough to allow himself to look her straight in the eyes. "Stay with me," he pressed, his hand cupping her cheek. As her eyes widened, he ran his phalanges over her soft skin. It felt so different than bone... 

"I...," she started, and he cut in, because he could tell she wasn't ready to say yes. Perhaps if he didn't give her a chance to argue, she would give up. Perhaps if he could just talk over her long enough, she would cave...

"You're not a danger, Amalia." His eyes flicked down to her chest as he readied his next protest, and the sight of her soul, a vibrant, pulsing purple, tightened his chest for a brief second. And then he realized what it meant.

...She would persevere. If she believed she was danger enough, she would leave, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. If he tried, she would just wait until she could leave properly. If he tried to convince her, she would persevere in her beliefs. She clung on, but how did he get her to see that he needed her?

"...I'm not?" The words were tiny and scared. Sans attention jerked up, and he couldn't quite resist smiling as he realized that while she might persevere, she was _listening_.

"I know Papyrus talked to you about living with us," he started, feeling the trembling in his soul start to ease. 

"I don't want to put you two in danger," she shook her head, and he laughed. It felt good to laugh, finally, after all of this.

"Then let us help you stay safe," he breathed, leaning in to touch her forehead with his. He felt her shake with a breathless laugh, and then she nestled her cheek to his, her arms sliding around him so that her hands could press flat against his shoulderblades. It was so strange... "Look, you can have whichever room you want. Just... it'll be easier to look out for you if you stay with us, you know? Plus, you won't have to worry about prices at the inn. I know your funds have been draining from that." He hesitated, then cut his eyes away from her. "...Besides...," he added awkwardly, "I'd really like you to stay."

Amalia closed her eyes, tucking her cheek against his clavicle. When she finally spoke, he could barely hear her. "Okay."


	10. Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust and pastries...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that one good way to help me finish this story is for me to set it as my goal during this year's Nanowrimo. As you can see, things are already going pretty well, but with any luck, I'll finish this story and start the next before the end of the month.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> For those who are not aware, Nanowrimo is about getting your project down on paper, and one of the rules is that you don't stop to seriously edit. Therefore, for the month of November, this story may be riddled with errors, but please bear with me. Once Nanowrimo's over, I intend to go back over the full thing and clean it up so that it's nice and pretty for everyone! But given how long I've made you wait for an update, I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer.
> 
> Also, please bear with me - going back to a story that's been dormant so long is difficult, and it may take me a little bit to get back into the characters' heads fully.
> 
> And if you want to cheer me on for my wordcount, I'm posting updates every night to the [ColorTales tumblr](http://colortales.tumblr.com/), so that people can see how I'm doing.

By the time they made it back to Snowdin, Amalia's nerves had kicked in again. She walked beside Sans with her notebook clutched to her chest and her head lowered so that the hoodie concealed her expression from him. He didn't say anything to her as they walked, so only distant noises distracted her brain from chewing on the anxious thoughts plaguing her. Most of the time, those distant sounds came from the roar of water down into the dump, the very waterfall that gave the area its name, but at other times, Amalia thought that she heard faint shouting and laughter. She latched onto that laughter, wanting to open her mouth, but somehow it just didn't feel right to do so.

And then they were in Snowdin, and the tiny bustle of the town was familiar enough to soothe her a little. Her shoulders loosened, and her head lifted just a little. Snowdin, now, was home. That thought immediately brought guilt with it - guilt for the foster family aboveground who she would never see again, but the guilt was laced with a thread of relief. Snowdin offered a different sort of mask to wear, and Amalia liked it better.

"Hey, kid," Sans interrupted, one hand catching at her upper arm to stop her. "You really that hungry?" His grin was as wide as ever, the pinpoint white of his eyes bright as he watched her.

"Huh?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"I thought we were supposed to be going back to my place, but you're heading to Grillby's?" 

Startled by the question, she looked around before realizing she'd passed his door by a couple of steps. Her head ducked again, twisted slightly away as she tried to conceal the blush from him, but Sans only laughed and let her go to make his way to the door. She mumbled a tiny, "Sorry."

"After you?" he said, rather than answering the soft apology. As she looked up, he swept one arm into the room, his eyes twinkling.

Hesitantly, Amalia stepped into the quiet house, looking around despite the fact that she had been in the place recently. Sans stood near the door as she looked, waiting for her to make her slow way into the room. When she stopped by the couch, he spoke up.

"What do you think sofa?" The question was cheeky, startling her out of her thoughts. She blinked owlishly at him before smiling weakly.

"I like it," she admitted, moving to curl up on the couch. "I'm just... are you sure it'll be okay?"

Sans' grin widened as he flopped down beside her. "Sit's gonna be fine. We both asked you to stay, after all." He fell silent just long enough to let her absorb what he'd said - they both wanted her there, in the home with them. They both cared. Warmth spread through her even as a small frown tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Sans?" she whispered. Her fingers picked at the corner of her notebook, pulling it up so that the pages could flip back down. On the third round, Sans reached out to pinch the notebook shut.

"Yeah?"

"Won't Papyrus get into trouble for this?" The question, even in her hushed tones, made Sans flinch faintly. He reached up, running his phalanges along the back of his skull lightly, then sighed.

"Maybe," he allowed, one hand reaching to rest over hers as she clenched her fists. His touch - delicate as a moth's wing - was a stark counterpoint to her white-knuckled grip. "As far as that goes, I could get into trouble, too. But Amalia," he added, in a voice that had grown slightly softer and rougher, "you're not asking the right questions, are you?"

She blinked at him in confusion, and he summoned up a smile from somewhere, a soft look just for her.

"I'm not?" she breathed, the words so hesitant that she almost didn't give them shape. When he shook his head, she looked down at the cover of her notebook. He waited while she considered, and was rewarded with another, more anxious question.

"What is the right question, then?"

Sans didn't answer her right away. Instead, he watched her as she went back to fiddling with her notebook. Periodically, she would realize how nervous she seemed, and her hands would still, laying flat against the paper cover for a moment before the fidgeting picked up again.

"'Do we want you here?'" he murmured, as her fingers tapped at the book for the third time. He saw her catch her breath, and he grinned as she looked at him. "The answer's 'yeah', incidentally." She leaned into him just a bit, and he twisted so that they were both a little more comfortable. "That goes for both of us, kid. I didn't force Papyrus or anything. He made his own choice. So now the question is 'what's your choice?'"

As she startled, he grinned widely. "What do you mean, Sans?"

"My room or his?" There was a definite sparkle to his eyelights. She jerked up, her face pale as she stared at him, and he laughed heartily. 

"Where will you be?" she whispered when his laughter died down, and it brought the laughter back, sharp and strong.

"My room then, huh?" As she stammered awkwardly, he caught her hand. "Don't worry so much."

"I can't help it, Sans," she admittedly, ducking her head so that she didn't meet his eyes, though she left her hand cradled in his. "I know I said I'd stay, but I don't think I'm ready for... I mean..."

The humor in Sans' eyes faded, and he reached up with his free hand to set one phalanx under her chin. Gently, he coaxed her head up so that their eyes met, and only when she could see how serious he was did he speak up. "It's okay, Amalia. Really. If you stay in my room, I'll stay with Paps in his. It's the way we'd planned from the beginning." His hand shifted to cup her cheek, and she could feel warmth in the bones. Unsure what to say, she remained silent, and his eyes dimmed slightly. "We'll make sure all of us are okay, I promise," he whispered.

Amalia nodded once, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she risked a glance up at the door to his room. He didn't fight her when she moved to rise, instead choosing to watch as she stood in the middle of their living room for a moment, dithering before moving toward the stairs.

"That tired?"

Amalia turned on the bottom step, and Sans was surprised to see that she was smiling when she met his eyes. "I thought I'd put my notebook in your... in my room," she said. "After that I thought I'd start dinner." She turned back to the stairs, climbing three more before a thought occurred to her and she stopped to look back at him again. "Care to join me?"

"Long as you don't expect me to cook," Sans shrugged. She flashed him a brighter grin, and darted up the stairs.

\---

"Sans?" Papyrus called out through the open door as he stamped on their porch just hard enough to knock the snow from his feet. When Sans looked over from the couch, Papyrus tilted his head. "She decided to stay?"

"What gave it away, bro?" Sans asked, stretching and getting to his feet. As Papyrus watched him move, he realized that he could hear the faint sounds of someone at work in the kitchen, and smirked.

"I know you," Papyrus informed Sans, closing the door behind him and moving to sit down in the spot Sans had vacated. "And you're not upset - which you would be if she'd insisted on staying where she wasn't safe." As Sans opened his mouth to counter Papyrus' words, Papyrus snorted. "Besides, I hear her in the kitchen. When Grillby's in there, there's a lot less clanging and a lot more crackling."

Sans laughed, scratching at the back of his skull awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed. A moment later, however, his eyes grew serious. "I think you oughta spend more time getting to know her, bro."

Papyrus' eyesockets narrowed sharply. "Oh?" he asked, the single word invitation enough between them. Where he might've needed to clarify his question to anyone else, Sans understood. Sans always understood.

"She's lonely, I think," Sans muttered, perching on the arm of the couch. "And she's worried about us both. I think she cares about what happens to you. I'm not asking you to..."

"You want me to befriend her," Papyrus cut in, before Sans could start stumbling over his words, and the smaller skeleton breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded. "I can do that," Papyrus agreed softly. "In fact, I had already planned to. As I was going about my patrols today, I thought about how important she seems to be to you." Faint blue spread over Sans' cheeks, and Papyrus snickered. "If she's important to you, then she's someone I must protect," the tall skeleton added gently. "And... if she's not as trustworthy as we both believe she is, then she's someone I must protect others from. Either way, knowing her better will help me protect those who need it."

Sans' eyes narrowed as his gaze moved to Papyrus, and then he chuckled wryly. "Should've known you'd have it all reasoned out, right?" he asked, his voice soft.

Papyrus huffed faintly. "Sans, I am the Captain of the Guard," he noted, straightening his spine proudly. "These are concerns I must always keep in mind." However, before Sans could answer, another voice cut in.

"It's your duty," Amalia murmured from the kitchen doorway. Rather than looking in any way upset, she seemed calm and pleased. "And... dinner's ready, if you'd like it?"

Papyrus blinked at her, and Sans twisted around to stare at her softly. Amalia just smiled shyly, disappearing back into the kitchen. "I'll bring it to you," she called through the open doorway, as the brothers exchanged a look of amused surprise.

"This may take a bit of getting used to," Papyrus allowed quietly, while Sans just laughed.

\---

"There are books on the shelves in my room, if you get bored," Papyrus pointed out as he stood at the doorway the next morning. Amalia smiled up at him gently, one hand waving at her notebook.

"I have my notebook, too. I can do some work on it," she assured him. He nodded sharply, frowning at himself as he hesitated yet again. The urge to stay and keep an eye on her was strong, but he had patrols to walk and duties that needed attention. Resolutely, he set a hand on his door, and moved to open it as Sans spoke up from the couch.

"You want anything special for lunch, bro?" Papyrus blinked, looking back at Sans, and saw his brother was grinning at him. "I figured I'd pick something up from Grillby's for all of us." Sans' eyes cut to Amalia in what he thought was surreptitious fashion, only to be greeted with a bemused look back. 

"What he means," she offered up, when the brothers were silent for a heartbeat, "is that he knows that both of you want to check up on me and make sure the house is still standing." As Sans started to stammer out an apology, she waved it away. "I think I'd like some fries today?"

Papyrus eyed Amalia thoughtfully, then tilted his head. "My usual, Sans. I will see you both at lunch." The words relaxed him just a little, and he turned to leave without hesitation. As the door swung shut behind him, Sans pushed himself up from the couch and made his way to stand beside Amalia. 

"He doesn't mean...," he started, but Amalia cut in before he could finish.

"I'm not upset, Sans," she assured him. "Papyrus is right to want to check up on me. After all, I'm a new person in your home and he doesn't know me very well." She paused, then hesitantly reached out to take Sans' hand in hers. "Not as well as you know me, anyway." Faint blue stained his cheeks, and she grinned. "But I want to live up to your trust in me. I want to be the person you two trust always."

"Yeah, okay," he mumbled, one phalanx brushing against the skin on the back of her hand. "As long as you aren't too upset."

"I'm not," she promised, her eyes dropping to watch their hands. His gaze followed hers, and he squeezed her hand very lightly. "But Paps was right about those books. Even with your notebook, you might get a little bored waiting for us to get home," he pointed out. "Why don't we go up together and pick out a few books you might be interested in reading?" He turned toward the stairs, tugging at her lightly. "That way, you won't feel like you're snooping." 

"How'd you....," she started, and he laughed. 

"The look on your face, kid." As she hesitantly grinned at him, his eyelights warmed. "Papyrus won't mind, and neither will I, but if it makes you more comfortable to leave the space untouched, that's fine, too. Living together takes a few adjustments at first." When she nodded slowly, he added, "So let's get you those books, huh?"

"Lead the way," she whispered, lacing her fingers in his.

\---

Papyrus stood just inside the doorway to Gaster's lab, silent as he watched the thin skeleton in front of him. Gaster hadn't noticed him yet, too busy with his readings and observations, and it gave Papyrus time to really look at the scientist. When last they spoke, Papyrus had stalked out in anger, too worried to really pay attention to what he should've seen before. But now, standing in the silence of overwork and distraction, Papyrus could really examine his uncle...

...And he didn't like what he saw.

They had never been particularly close, Papyrus knew, but he'd always been able to trust that his uncle was busy doing something that made him content, if not happy. And yet, the calm neutrality he had come to assume was natural for Gaster was not present on his skull this time. Instead, Gaster looked tired. His eyesockets drooped down in that skeletal expression of soul-weariness, and he walked with a faint slump to his shoulders. To most, the differences would be invisible, but Papyrus was very good at observing, and very good at knowing even the uncle who had dismissed both brothers when the war was over.

He was also very good at caring.

"Have the fluctuations settled?" he finally asked, when it became apparent that Gaster was never going to look up and see him without intervention. Papyrus expected some sort of jump from the scientist, but Gaster simply rolled his eyes as he looked at the Captain of the Guard.

"You know they haven't," he drawled, sockets narrowing at Papyrus for a brief second before Gaster turned to walk towards a table. The movement was smooth enough that he almost seemed to glide as he sat down.

"What makes you think I know anything?" Papyrus said, his voice neutral. He waited a moment for an invitation, and when none was forthcoming, he simply sat down opposite Gaster.

"Don't lie to me, Papyrus. You aren't as good at it as Sans," Gaster said tiredly, waving one irritated hand in the air between them. "The fluctuations haven't stopped. They've grown stronger. I suggest you speak to the king about them."

"Asgore could have nothing to say that you won't share," Papyrus frowned, and the statement sent Gaster into gales of icy laughter.

"Asgore," he finally managed, once the laughter had eased enough for him to speak, "will tell you to collect the human's soul." He paused for effect, then added, "Alive, if your sensibilities must be spared."

Papyrus scowled, staring at Gaster in frustration. "Even if there were a human," he bit out, and the words were accompanied by a soft chiding from Gaster which Papyrus ignored, "that doesn't mean the human's evil! I won't be part of it!"

"But you won't discredit me, either, will you?" Gaster smiled softly. For a brief moment, he looked like the uncle who brought the brother's candy once upon a time. For the briefest of times, he looked like the man Papyrus had once admired.

"There are other ways for this, if we just stop and think," Papyrus pressed, leaning forward over the table. In response, Gaster settled back into his chair, staring at Papyrus. His eyes, drooping with depression and weariness before, now had an odd light behind them, and an even stranger shape. There was the hint of hope to them, not strong but there, and it played on Papyrus' mind.

"Are there, Papyrus?" Gaster whispered, reaching out with one hand to catch hold of a thick sheaf of papers and push it over to sit in front of Papyrus. "Do tell."

\---

"You're new here." The words were light and playful, delicate in a way that left Amalia unprepared for the sight that faced her when she turned around to confront the speaker. The girl wore a shirt of dark red stripes and a loose, flowing skirt that swirled around her thin legs. One hand held a small package covered by a handkerchief knotted into a small carry-case, while another held a parasol over one shoulder. Her third hand plucked at the collar to her shirt, and the fourth gestured at Amalia, while the fifth and sixth rested on her hips. But it wasn't even the generous number of arms she had that stopped Amalia in her tracks. It was her eyes.

They were as black as night, blinking in a quick sort of wave along her face, and so alien that Amalia couldn't quite stop herself from staring. The girl laughed lightly, reaching up to thread fingers through one of her pigtails before tossing her head. "Careful, pretty," she said, reaching out with one slender finger to close Amalia's jaw for her. "If Undyne catches you staring like that, she just might get a bit jealous." 

Even as she said it, she twirled in a quick circle to show off her outfit before setting her parcel down at the edge of the water. "What brings you to Waterfall? Are you moving here?"

"Moving?" Amalia repeated stupidly for a moment before returning to herself and shaking her head. Embarrassed, she set her notebook down and moved to splash some of the water on her face. Despite being lukewarm, the water felt good against her skin. She tugged her shirt up just far enough to dry her face, then reached out for her notebook, noticing only then that the girl had picked it up and was paging through it.

"You're an artist, then?" Muffet asked lightly, those ink-black eyes lifting to watch her. Amalia hesitated, then nodded awkwardly, and Muffet laughed again. That laugh was like bells on spiderweb, and she held out the notebook to Amalia. "Perhaps someday I'll get you to draw me," she suggested.

"I'd like that," Amalia admitted, opening the notebook to a new page and reaching for the pencil in her hoodie. "I could... maybe do it now?"

"Oh my," Muffet murmured, her lips parting in a smile that revealed two sharp canines. The sight unsettled Amalia, but the human girl set her jaw and nodded.

"I'd like to be able to learn more about you. Make friends, and all," Amalia offered, and her own smile was awkwardly crooked. Muffet leaned closer, one finger drifting across Amalia's cheek, and Amalia fought the urge to flee.

"Why don't you join me for lunch, pretty?" Muffet finally invited, reaching to unwrap the parcel she'd carried. The handkerchief fell away to reveal several pastries so light and flaky that they nearly crumbled when the air hit them. Amalia caught her breath, and Muffet laughed lightly, reaching to catch up a croissant and hand it over to Amalia. "My treat."

"I...," Amalia whispered, biting her lower lip for a moment before lifting the pastry to her lips. She took a small nibble and shivered. The taste was exquisite. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, lovely," Muffet purred, picking up what looked like an odd cupcake without icing and nibbling at it. The smell of seasoned beef floated over to Amalia, and when the girl was done with her croissant, she hesitantly reached out for one of the odd cupcakes.

Her first bite stunned her into silence. She stared at the pastry in her hand until Muffet laughed again. "Never had a bieroch before, pretty?" the spider-girl asked lightly. When Amalia shook her head, Muffet scooted to sit beside her, leaning in close enough that her chest brushed against Amalia's arm, but Amalia didn't notice. While Muffet was settling close, Amalia had grabbed her notebook and was bent over it, writing notes about the pastry she held.

"B-I-E-R-O-C-H," Muffet spelled, taking another of the delicacies in two hands and pulling it apart. With the bieroch ripped open, Amalia could see the filling that spilled out of the pocket within the flaky crust. She set to work sketching the food while Muffet looked on in amusement.

At length, Amalia looked back up at Muffet and saw that the spider-girl was dozing near the edge of the water. Though cold, the pastries still laid out were deliciously filling, and Amalia couldn't quite stop herself from nibbling on a couple more as she sketched in the foundation for the picture she planned to draw. As the time for lunch drew near, and she remembered she still had to meet the skeleton brothers back at home, Amalia gathered up her things. Muffet still dozed by the water, so Amalia tore out a piece of paper from her notebook and left a small thank you under the handkerchief holding the pastries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was not my favorite chapter to write. I'm a little disappointed in it, but I do look forward to seeing how things move forward, because we're headed to some of the scenes I REALLY want to write, so I'm going to STAY DETERMINED!!!
> 
> To anyone who's reading this story still, thanks for checking it out. I'm flattered you're reading my work!


	11. Fried Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't awkward when you have a new roommate... right?

"Hello, Amalia," Papyrus said, as he caught her on the edge of Waterfall. She jumped, looking up at the tall skeleton before smiling softly. 

"Hi," she offered in return, hesitant to assume any real familiarity despite the fact that she now lived with him. But as he tilted his head, she couldn't quite stop herself from sharing her morning with him. "After you and Sans left this morning, I thought I'd go on a walk." He nodded encouragingly, and she grinned shyly, pulling her notebook away from her chest to flip through the pages as she spoke. "I didn't want to just stay at home. It felt... a little strange without either of you there. Oh," she added, remembering, "but Sans did show me your books. I have a few of them on the couch for when I'm ready to read them. That's okay, right?" Papyrus chuckled softly, and Amalia ducked her head.

"Right, right," she muttered, scratching at her scalp with one hand. "You already said. I guess I'm just still a little nervous."

"But rather than read, you went on a walk," Papyrus noted softly. Amalia nodded, staring at the ground in front of her. It was difficult to figure out how to explain to Papyrus that the house felt odd to her, without the two of them to buffer the silence. A small part of her wondered if Papyrus could even really understand how she felt, but she buried that away rather than speak up. "Was it a good walk?" Papyrus asked, after a stretch of silence. 

"Yeah," Amalia nodded, her steps slowing as she opened her notebook to the sketch of the bieroch. "I met someone new today." Oblivious to the way Papyrus tensed beside her, she held out the notebook. "She was a sort of... spider...? woman?" She let go of the notebook as Papyrus took hold of it, but he didn't need to see the pastry to know who she was talking about - not with how often he saw Muffet alongside Undyne.

"Ah," he nodded, reading the notes Amalia had included about the pastry and the girl before handing the notebook back. "Her name is Muffet." His voice trailed off delicately as he considered how to ask the question floating around his head, but before he could even shape it into a coherent thought, Amalia was already speaking up in answer.

"She was very nice. She shared her baking with me." It was such a simple thing to do, but somehow, the memory of it made Amalia's chest swell with happiness, and she tucked the notebook to her as she fell into step beside Papyrus once more. "I suppose it means I won't be quite as hungry for whatever Sans brings home, but it felt good to make a new friend. Sans won't mind, right?"

"Of course not," Papyrus assured her softly, looking down at his companion thoughtfully. For a time, the only sound between them was the crunch of snow underfoot and the soft hiss of snow falling against the trees. Eventually, however, the questions Papyrus wanted to ask became too difficult to bear, and he opened his mouth. "Do you suppose other humans might also want to make friends with monsters?"

Amalia pulled up short, staring at Papyrus with wide eyes as she considered. "You mean... aboveground?" she finally whispered. Against her chest, the notebook folded slightly as she pressed it closer, and her glasses fogged slightly as her breathing grew sharper. Despite that, she held her ground, waiting for Papyrus to clarify.

"Yes," he agreed, his eyesockets narrowed at her as he stood facing her. "Not all of them, but surely some humans care as you do?"

"I don't...," she started, then cut herself off, looking off into the trees rather than into his eyes. "I don't know." Her confession was a soft one, full of shame and no little fear, and Papyrus heard the grey overtones to the words. Amalia stood in front of him, her lower lip protruding slightly in a way that might've looked sullen had there not been so much fear behind her eyes, and Papyrus wished abruptly that it was Sans in front of her, rather than him.

"Perhaps there are other humans who value mercy and kindness as you do," he mused, rather than share with her his own misgivings about their conversation. When Amalia just continued to stare away awkwardly, Papyrus stepped closer, reaching for the hood draped at her back. Delicate phalanges drew the hood over her head, then reached to tuck her hair into the hood so that it could properly warm her, and her head lifted so that their eyes could meet. "Perhaps we would need an ambassador," he said gently. "We would need someone to explain to the humans that they don't need to fear us." He smiled gently at her, and she stared at him in wonder.

"Papyrus... what are you saying?" she finally breathed, watching the tall skeleton curiously. The fear had slowly faded from her eyes, leaving her trusting and comfortable as she watched him, her face held between his hands in an intimate way that neither of them really noticed. The death grip she'd had on her notebook until that moment had loosened, her arms falling to her side so that only one hand clutched at the notebook still, held at her hip in a way that she didn't notice. 

"I think you would make a good ambassador, Amalia," the skeleton said, a warmth to his eyelights and smile that made her blush lightly. One of his hands moved to pat her head, and she laughed lightly as she ducked away, waving at the touch companionably.

"I don't want to leave you two," she countered, reaching to catch his hand as he watched in surprise. Gone was the fear in her eyes. Instead, contentment radiated from her, and when her fingers closed around his, he found himself amazed at the warmth of her touch. "I want to stay here with you two forever." The words, impulsive but firm, twisted his smile into a sadder look.

"Amalia, someday we will be free of the Underground," he said firmly, slowing just enough to catch her attention. She looked up at him, biting her lower lip as she worried that she said something wrong, and Papyrus sighed. "When we get to the surface, I would like it very much if a human as honorable as you would look after us." Her brows furrowed in sharp worry, and Papyrus held up a hand before she could say anything. "Sans and I would never force you to do it alone. After all, my brother loves you."

Her face flushed a sudden, bright red, and she looked down at the ground to hide the heat in her cheeks, but Papyrus could see the smile that lingered on her lips. "It will be some time before we make it to the surface, Amalia. Please, simply consider what I've said." 

"I will," Amalia whispered softly, squeezing his hand despite the way she couldn't look at him. "I promise."

\---

"Took you guys long enough," Sans noted from the couch, as Amalia and Papyrus stepped into the house. Papyrus huffed, but there was contentment behind the soft sound, and Amalia moved to sit down beside Sans. Without a thought, Sans shifted slightly, his arm settling over her shoulders so that she could tuck herself against him, and she did, setting her notebook down on the couch to her side. 

"I'll get the food, then," Papyrus murmured, looking between the two for a moment before shaking his head and making his way to the kitchen counter, where Sans had set the bag of food that Grillby had sent with him. He set out two plates as he heard the other two talking quietly in the living room, arranging the fries on each plate before grabbing a bottle of ketchup and carrying all of it to his two housemates. Amalia moved to hop up and help him, but Sans caught her shoulder, keeping her sitting beside him even as he angled a grin at his brother. Papyrus only snorted.

"Here. Share the ketchup if she likes it," he directed Sans, before turning to make his way back to the kitchen for his own lunch. Once the omelette was arranged on the plate, he joined them on the couch, sitting on Sans' other side.

"I spoke to Amalia today about what she could do when the Barrier disappears," he said casually, his eyes on the far wall as he cut a small piece of his omelette to eat. The cheese inside was gooey and hot, stretching as he lifted the bite with his fork.

Amalia tensed slightly, earning a slow look from Sans before Papyrus continued. "I believe she would make a very good ambassador to the humans. They will need someone to teach them that we are not their enemies, after all."

"We're not, bro?" Sans asked softly, biting down on a french fry while Amalia set her own fry back down on her plate, staring at it. 

Papyrus sighed, scowling at the wall as he considered Sans' question. "I suppose that's a fair point. Is that why you're so hesitant, Amalia? Because you feel threatened down here?" 

"It's not that," Amalia whispered, but she didn't sound convinced. Papyrus opened his mouth to say something else, but Sans tapped his knee before he could, and he looked down at his brother solemnly. Sans shook his head, and Papyrus closed his mouth with a soft snap, accepting that Sans' more expansive knowledge of Amalia was likely at play in the warning. To Sans' credit, she began speaking again after a moment. "I don't know that I can do what you believe I can. Who would even listen to me, Papyrus? It's not like humans are going to take me seriously as an ambassador."

"You know why they're gonna take you seriously?" Sans asked softly. Amalia looked at him, and his smile softened. "Because you know a lot more about us than they do. Since you've been here, you've taken the time to get to know us. I know at first, it was all about how to survive, but you've kinda moved beyond that, kid. Haven't you?"

When Amalia nodded shyly, his grin grew. "Pap's right. You'll make a great ambassador for us. And Paps and I will protect you the whole time."

\---

The brothers left again after lunch, with Papyrus noting that he may not be home until later, and Amalia was left to her own devices once again. At first, she cleaned up after them, but all too soon, that chore was over and she was left with silence and the stack of books they had retrieved from Papyrus' room. Ignoring all of it in favor of her notebook, Amalia sat down at the small table the brothers shared, flipping through the pages to the last page she'd sketched on. There was the foundation for her picture of Muffet, and Amalia smiled softly as she settled down to fill in the gaps.

As she worked, the silence in the room was broken by the soft hush of graphite dragging over notepaper. Sometimes, Amalia would pause, looking down at the paper critically as she tried to work out what to add to the picture before returning to it. Sometimes she would drag her thumb across the sketch, blurring the pencil marks into shading, and sometimes it would be her eraser, removing the marks before they could mar the picture. She lost track of how long she sat there, trying to bring life to the picture. 

Occasionally, as her eyes crossed, Amalia would get up and walk around the room, stretching out her limbs even as the vision of Muffet filled her still. She spent the afternoon on the picture, at peace with herself as she continued to work. When the sound of the door opening finally came, she lifted her head to stare at it in surprise. Sans stepped in, looking around for her, and Amalia hesitantly smiled, lifting one hand in a silent greeting.

"What're you working on?" Sans asked, tapping his feet on the floor near the door to remove the snow before making his way over. He leaned over Amalia's shoulder, his cheek near hers, and she fought the urge to duck her head. "Muffet, huh? Good job,"

"I met her this morning," Amalia whispered, then blinked at herself. The long stretch of silence had caught in her voice, and she cleared her throat before saying with new strength, "She shared her baking with me."

"Any good?" Sans asked, sitting down across from her. She felt her heart slowly starting to slow to normal as he moved away, and blushed faintly, her eyes locked on the paper so that she didn't have to look up at him. 

"Very good," she admitted, flipping the notebook to the bieroch notes and pushing it over to him. He picked it up as she watched, looking at the drawing and notes. When he was done and handing the book back, he tilted his head.

"Maybe you should tell her to talk to Grillby, huh? Sounds like you think those two could work magic together."

Amalia laughed softly, storing her notebook on a side table and moving to the sink to wash the smudges from her hands. "I will," she decided, glancing back at Sans. "They're both such good cooks." Sans got up from his seat as she rubbed at the smudges and moved quietly behind her, so that his arms could wrap around her waist in a hug. She tensed, then slowly relaxed back into the hug, closing her eyes as the water ran over her hands.

"Then we can eat both together, right?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Sans...?" He rumbled a quiet reply, and she found herself momentarily unable to speak. When she finally found her voice again, it was only the barest breath of sound. "...Why?"

"You care," Sans admitted, and she felt his head tilt forward to rest between her shoulder-blades. "I like that about you. I didn't expect a human to care about what went on down here, but..." He trailed off as he pulled away finally. Amalia bit her lip, reaching up with shaking hands to turn off the faucet and grab a towel. As she did so, Sans turned away, moving out of the kitchen to the couch and sinking down on it. With her hands dry, and her heart a little closer to normal speed, Amalia followed. "Every time you talk about making friends with monsters, I realize you're serious about it," he finally explained. 

"What do you mean?" Amalia frowned, hovering near the couch for a brief moment before Sans reached up to catch her hand and tug her down to sit beside him. She yelped softly as she stumbled, her shoulder knocking against his arm just hard enough to sting. Sans simply chuckled, shifting to hold her once she was settled.

"I mean, look at Gyftrot. When you realized what you did, you set out to make things better. When you met Gerson, you really impressed him," Sans started to list.

"All I did was listen to him," Amalia shook her head. "That's not really..."

"That is really," Sans countered, silencing her. One hand reached out to catch up one of hers, and their fingers threaded together. "I wish I could explain to you how important that really is." 

"It doesn't matter though, does it?" Amalia asked. "With the king so angry, I mean." She twisted to look up at him, and Sans sighed quietly. "I want to get to know everyone, but... will I really be able to?" 

"I don't know," Sans admitted quietly, his eyelights dimming as he looked away. "I think... Gerson thinks that you can make a difference down here. If you can, I want you to," he admitted. "If you can, I want to help you do it."

Amalia smiled slowly, looking up at him. "...Partners," she whispered, as he huffed out a faint laugh.

"Yeah, partners." 

\---

"The fluctuations are stronger."

Papyrus paused just outside the throne room, startled by the voice within. He held his breath, one hand clenching at his side as he waited to hear more. Sneaking wasn't his style, but if Gaster was still reporting the fluctuations to the king, Papyrus needed to know about it.

"Why has Papyrus not found the source of such fluctuations?" he heard Asgore muse, and his soul fluttered in his chest, pulsing in response to the fear settling over his bones. Amalia was a little too large to conveniently conceal, but if he could just time it right...

"It may take him some time," Gaster said smoothly. "The fluctuations do not remain in a single place, after all. The human is moving about, and if they were aware of what they were doing, then it is only right to assume that they understand the importance of avoiding the Captain of the Guard." 

Papyrus stared at the doorway, unable to see either of the monsters inside the throne room, though sight didn't really matter to him. What mattered was what he heard... or what he hadn't heard. Why was Gaster not discrediting him? Indeed, why was Gaster buying him time? It made no sense.

"Then I should send out more guards," Asgore rumbled, and Papyrus was stunned to hear a note of weariness in the king's deep voice.

"No," Gaster countered. There was the shuffle of papers being handled, and then a tapping of bone against paper-covered stone. "If you send more guards out, you will alert the human that we are aware of them. Once you do that, the human will go into deeper hiding, possibly even finding their way back out of the Underground without us being aware." He paused to let the king absorb that, then continued. "If the human escapes the Underground, then the Barrier will remain intact, won't it?"

"The human will not escape," Asgore returned, his voice low and dark. The sound of it sent chills down Papyrus' spine. There was another tapping, this one far more impatient, and Gaster laughed darkly.

"Papyrus will find the human," he said firmly, accompanied by the shuffle of papers once more. "And when he does, he will know precisely what to do with them. Of this, I have no doubt."

Papyrus stepped away from the doorway, moving to stare at the wall as he processed the words. Gaster hadn't discredited him. If anything, Gaster had reinforced the king's trust in him, and that was an angle that he had never expected. His mind churned, working at the problem as he heard the voices talking for a while longer. Before he'd figured it out, however, he was snapped out of his thoughts by the appearance of Gaster in the doorway.

Gaster stared at Papyrus through eyes that still drooped, an unreadable grimace on his teeth. "Papyrus," he greeted softly, as Papyrus drew himself to his full height.

"Gaster."

"I was just reporting my findings to the king," Gaster continued, and the white of his eyelights glowed brighter. "I certainly didn't mean to keep you. Were you waiting long?"

Papyrus' browbones drew together sharply, his head tilting up in defiance as he considered the question. "Not long," he finally offered his uncle. "Not long at all. I trust the king was content with your findings?"

Gaster's smile grew cold. "Not entirely," he said, before striding past Papyrus. "But he will be." 

Papyrus watched him go, then turned toward the doorway to the throne room. Processing Gaster's schemes would have to wait.

\---

"Sans?" Amalia asked, her eyes shut as she leaned against his ribs. They were warm to the touch, and the heat lulled her to calmness softly. "Shouldn't we make dinner soon?"

"Oh, probably," Sans agreed, one hand drifting lightly over the fabric covering her arm. "Probably be nice for Papyrus if we made it before he got home and all." Despite his words, he made no effort to move, and Amalia chuckled softly.

"Then we're going to have to get up, you know," she pointed out. She yawned deeply, nestling just a little closer even as she reminded herself of what she had just said aloud.  
"You're not making any great strides in that direction either, kid," Sans observed. His voice had grown lazy in contentment, and when she prepared herself to get up, he snaked an arm around her waist, keeping her close to him. She laughed, rolling her eyes at the playful mood, and he chuckled softly.

"I would be, if you weren't holding me back," she informed him. He huffed, letting her go. As she finally got to her feet, he followed suit. 

"I guess you're right," he agreed, padding toward the kitchen. "You want anything special?"

"Wait... are you cooking?" Amalia asked in surprise, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and following him.

"Well, you did make some sense about dinner," Sans shrugged, stopping in front of the fridge and peering into it. "And Paps' probably had a pretty rough day." He set bread and cheese on the counter, then looked over at Amalia, expecting some sort of acknowledgement. However, he didn't expect the frown on her face. "What is it?"

"Why would he have a bad day?" she murmured, moving to lean against the counter near him. "Is it because of me?"

"Ah," Sans nodded, relaxing just a little as he turned back to the cutting board and began arranging bread and cheese on it. "Not exactly, but you being human isn't really helping," he admitted, the words accompanied by a faint sigh. "Thing is, Asgore can be kinda rough to deal with, from what I've heard. It's not that he's mean to Papyrus or anything, but... Paps doesn't always know what he's going to be like when it's time to give his report. There's a lot of worried anticipation going on."

Amalia absorbed the explanation quietly before looking over at Sans solemnly. "There has to be some way to help him," she whispered, and Sans shrugged.

"I've asked him before if he'd like me to go with him when he makes the report," he noted. "But it's something Papyrus is determined to do himself. You can't talk him out of it, and it's his choice, you know?" 

Amalia quirked a smile as Sans offered a half-shrug. "Not exactly what I meant," she murmured, relaxing just a little. "But I like that your brain went straight to your brother." He grunted, and she laughed. "I'll figure out how to help them later. For now... what help do you need with dinner?"

"If you wanna get the skillet out, that'd be good. Dinner's not gonna be fancy or anything, but it's one of Papyrus' favorite meals." He tapped on the top of one of the cheese sandwiches he'd made. "Fried Cheese. I used to make it for him when we first moved to Snowdin."

"One skillet coming right up," Amalia murmured, watching Sans for a moment before leaning in to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. He froze, and she ducked down to dig out the pan. "I'll leave you to it, since you know how to cook them so well," she added, her voice hasty and nervous.

"...Yeah," Sans nodded, reaching for the skillet she set on top of the stove as he watched her disappear into the living room. Her face had seemed awfully red...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm REALLY unhappy with this chapter and the last one. You may wonder why I'm posting it, then, and part of it's because I've made y'all wait so long, but part of it is also the knowledge that if it's up here, when Nano's done I'm more likely to go back and FIX the problems with these chapters, rather than just letting the story die.
> 
> Long story short, these two chapters were plotted before my long break, and the plotting was very vague. When I sat down to plot out the rest of it, I didn't think to look at these two, so when I started writing them, I found myself asking constantly, "what do I even want to HAPPEN HERE?!" These chapters are the result.
> 
> Hopefully now that we're headed into chapters that have been very thoroughly plotted out, things will improve, because I do have very long-term plans for this series!


	12. Overthinking Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, silence is worse than misspoken words...

Dinner had been mostly silent, and the lack of conversation made it awkward. But it wasn't just the occasional attempts to break the silence that stopped the dinner from being comfortable. It was also the way Amalia couldn't quite bring herself to look at Sans. Instead, throughout the meal, she stared resolutely at her plate, and once all of them had finished their food, she rose quickly, gathering up the plates with a mumbled comment about Sans cooking before disappearing into the kitchen to wash them. Once they were alone, Papyrus looked over at Sans thoughtfully.

"She's upset." It wasn't a question, but Sans still shook his head. "She doesn't normally act that way, Sans," Papyrus pressed, frowning deeply at his brother. Sans huffed softly, reaching up to rub the back of his skull with one hand, but Papyrus continued. "We made a promise to her that we would both protect her, Sans. If you're keeping something from me that I need to know about...."

Sans sighed again, getting to his feet. "Paps, I don't know it's something she wants to talk about right now, okay? But she's not in any danger. If she was, you'd be the first person I went to for help, right? Who better to protect her than the Great Papyrus?" Papyrus rolled his eyes, and Sans' grin grew a little more natural. 

"That ridiculous title again," the tall skeleton muttered, shaking his head as he moved toward the stairs.

"Hey, when you were little, you used to love it," Sans noted, sinking down onto the couch as he thought back to those times. "Those adventures you and your friends would go on? It's one of my favorite things to remember." His words grew softer as he spoke, his smile taking on an air of grief that made Papyrus pause halfway up the stairs.

"What brought on those memories, Sans?" he asked, frowning as he watched his brother. "Is it... because you're around a human again?" He moved a step closer to his brother, but Sans waved him away before he could do much beyond that.

"You say 'again' like I was friends with a lot of them before," Sans muttered. 

"You never really tried," Papyrus countered, folding his arms over his ribs. He leaned against the wall, still partway up the stairs, and from his vantage point, he didn't see Amalia pause just inside the kitchen, listening to them.

"I didn't feel like it," Sans shrugged, looking up at Papyrus in bemusement. "Besides, how could I ever compete with the 'Great Papyrus'? That's too much work for me, thanks." He looked down at his hands and his cheeks tinted a very faint blue. "I'll stick with the one human, okay? She's plenty for me."

Papyrus' smile tensed a little, but Sans didn't see it. "I have little doubt she'll stick with you, too, brother. I'm fairly certain you know that as well as I do." Despite the tension in his frame, the words were tender and warm. Sans glanced up, then laughed as he scratched the back of his skull. "And I know that you'll talk to me about what's going on when you're ready," Papyrus added quietly, as Sans' eyes cut away.

"...When I'm ready," he agreed softly. "Go ahead and get your book. You can read down here, if you want. I don't think we'll be very loud today."

Papyrus snorted. "Amalia isn't given to being loud any day, Sans," he informed his brother, then turned to head back upstairs. "I shall be back in a moment."

\---

The house was silent as Amalia made her way downstairs, her eyes on her feet to ensure every step she took was quiet enough not to disturb the calm of the early morning. Lack of sleep hovered in the dark smudges under her eyes and the faint downpull to her lips. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she finally looked up and froze, her heart pounding in her chest.

Papyrus stared back at her from the couch, a book open on his lap but his attention firmly on her. When she stumbled a pace, he smiled gently at her. "You were rather quiet last night. Has Sans done something to upset you?"

"N-no," she stammered, ducking her head so that her blond hair fell over her cheeks in an attempt to conceal the red cast to them. Papyrus wasn't fooled, but he remained silent, simply watching her as she tried to figure out what to do. His patience was rewarded when she moved to sit down beside him. "I'm... not really ready to talk about it," she finally offered, and Papyrus simply nodded, placidly closing the book in his lap.

"No one will force you to talk about something you're not ready to, Amalia," Papyrus assured her. "But I will ask you to sort out your feelings. Sans seemed a little on edge last night, and you certainly weren't the human I've come to appreciate." That earned him a startled smile, and Papyrus chuckled. "What do you intend to do with your day? I know that Sans and I must work again."

"I wanted to walk around for a while," Amalia admitted. "There's still so much down here that I have to learn about. And I know I can't go beyond Waterfall, but I thought I'd go see the glowing mushrooms again, and maybe say hello to Gerson." She smiled up at Papyrus, a little shy but also more relaxed than she had been at first. The skeleton nodded, hesitating a moment before reaching out to pat her hand with his. 

"I don't know what made you stop talking to my brother, Amalia, but hopefully your time away from the house will help you accept that we are both here for you." She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand to stop her before she could even begin to speak. "I'm not asking about it, human. You said you don't want to talk about it, and I respect that. But I also know that whatever it is has left both of you upset. If there was a misunderstanding, I hope you can find it in yourself to fix it quickly. Sans cares about how you feel, and if you're not happy here, with us, then we will find a better place for you."

"No!," Amalia yelped, her voice half-strangled as she tried to keep herself somewhat quiet. "Papyrus, no, it's not like that. I just... look, I will talk with you about this. I promise. I just - I need to think about things myself first. Is that okay?" Her hands twisted together in her lap until Papyrus reached out to take them in his own. He separated the hands gently, then reached up to pat her head very lightly. The touch - one that others might find condescending - soothed Amalia, and she slowly settled back again couch, relaxed once more.

"I believe you," Papyrus murmured gently. "It will be okay. Talk to me whenever you're ready. I am patient," he promised. She offered him a weak smile, and he patted her hands again before setting his book aside. "Now, as you plan to go walking very early today, I shall make you something to eat. What would you like for breakfast?" There was no hesitation to his smile, and Amalia couldn't quite resist grinning back as she got up to follow him into the kitchen.

\---

"Been up a while?" Sans asked, as he trudged down the stairs, one hand rubbing his face while the other scratched at his spine. He looked over at Papyrus, then yawned widely before slouching down on the couch to stare up at the ceiling. Without being asked, Papyrus brought over a mug of warm cocoa and a blanket.

"Early enough to know that you didn't sleep," he said, sitting down beside Sans. "Whatever is going on between you and Amalia appears to have shaken you both."

Sans snorted. "I slept," he muttered, ignoring the second sentence. "I was asleep when you got up, after all!"

Papyrus reached over to tuck the blanket a little closer to Sans' bones. "You aren't fooling either of us, Sans," he said gently. "Your pretense may be improving, but I can still tell when you do and do not sleep." Sans offered no response, and Papyrus sighed softly. "Has the human upset you? Is that why things are so awkward between the two of you?"

Sans let out a slow breath, turning to look at Papyrus silently for a moment. His eyelights were dim and pale blue stained his cheekbones as he laughed weakly. "Did you ask her that, too?" he whispered.

Papyrus snorted. "Of course not, Sans. I do have some decorum, after all."

"Not with me," Sans frowned, and Papyrus reached out to tap the top of his skull with a fingertip.

"You're my brother. Concern is more important than decorum with you." He paused, then admitted quietly, "But I did feed her and ensure that I knew roughly where she would be today. I intend to check in on her later, since you'll be at work."

"Of course you do, bro," Sans laughed, shaking his head. He fell silent, and Papyrus accepted it, letting the silence stretch between them for several minutes before Sans gave up. "She... kissed me."

"She what?" Papyrus demanded, shock coloring his words as he twisted to stare at Sans. The pale blue tint had darkened and spread over his nasal bones, but he held still, staring at the far wall rather than look at Papyrus. 

"She did it when I started making dinner for us," Sans admitted. "I don't... She hasn't really said anything to me since. I don't know if she is happy or regrets it or just... It's not like I can kiss her back, you know? I don't even have lips!"

Papyrus fought the urge to snicker back into submission, burying it within himself before responding. "Sans, I doubt she was confused about your... liplessness... before she kissed you."

"Then why isn't she talking to me?" Sans demanded, covering his face with his hands and rubbing at his temporal bones. "What do I do, Paps? Will she be upset if I leave her alone? Does she want me to? Humans are confusing!" He glanced at Papyrus, then shoved himself off the couch to pace. "Quit laughing!"

"I'm not laughing," Papyrus murmured, managing to keep the words even and calm even as his eyelights flickered.

Sans snorted derisively. "You're laughing," he pointed out, stopping mid-pace to point a finger at Papyrus. "Quit it! How do I explain to her...?" His words trailed off, his eyelights growing dimmer, and all mirth faded from Papyrus as he leaned forward on the couch.

"Explain what, Sans?"

Sans heaved a slow breath. "I'm not even sure exactly what it is I want to tell her," he admitted softly. "She got so important so fast. But I can't kiss her. I can't do any of those human things that she's probably used to." He stared at Papyrus, entreating his brother to come up with something that would help. "What do I do?"

Papyrus stared back, solemn and thoughtful. When he spoke, his words were slow, measured against the weight of contemplation. "I doubt she's as familiar with 'those human things' as you think she is." When Sans moved to protest, Papyrus held up a hand. "Hear me out, brother. She wasn't happy above. We both know that. I don't know everything she's told you, but she hasn't told me much of her life before at all. There could be any number of reasons she wasn't happy there. But here is something we do know, and we know it very well: she's happy enough here to want to stay. She's said to us, in so many words, that she never wants to leave. I'm not sure if that's possible, but I doubt that she would have come to that conclusion believing you have lips... or any other thing you think you need to interact with her."

"What are you saying, Paps?" Sans demanded, turning back to his pacing in frustration. Papyrus sighed as he settled back against the couch.

"I'm saying that I doubt her love is contingent on you looking or acting human. It isn't like we've tried to hide our differences from her, Sans. Just as we have accepted her for who she is, so she has accepted us." Papyrus paused long enough for his words to sink into Sans before he continued. "The question you really need to ask yourself, Sans, is whether or not you love her, I think."

Sans froze, his eye sockets wide as he stared at the wall. Papyrus wanted to get up and go to him, but he didn't. He remained on the couch, letting Sans work through everything in his mind by himself, and when the shorter skeleton finally looked over at Papyrus, the tall skeleton was pleased to see there was a calm in the eyes.

"Do you love her, Sans?" Papyrus asked gently.

"Will it do any good if I do?" Sans responded weakly, and Papyrus lifted his chin. The silent gesture was enough, and Sans wilted a little as he looked away from his brother.

"I don't know," he admitted, very softly. "I know she's important to me - as important as you are, if that gives you any idea." He bit his lip, then looked back at Papyrus. "I guess... maybe I do love her."

"Then at work today, you can spend some time figuring out how to tell her," Papyrus smiled. "But you should go. You're running a little late."

Sans yelped, jerked from the serious thoughts by Papyrus' comment, and he glanced at the clock. "I am! Paps, I'm not sure whether I can be here for lunch," he said quickly, rushing to grab what he needed for the day. Papyrus simply sat on the couch, watching him. 

"Don't worry, Sans. Talk to her tonight. I will check in on her at lunch," Papyrus promised. When Sans ducked out the door, the tall skeleton smiled.

\---

Amalia stood in the warm water around the dump, her jeans rolled up as high as they would go and her sleeves shoved halfway up her arms. Her hood hung on an out jutting rock along the cavern wall, and her socks and shoes were placed under it, neatly lined up with her notebook set atop them. Her attention, however, was far from her surroundings. Occasionally, a piece of trash would catch her eye, and she would move to pick it up, but mostly, her mind was trapped in the kitchen at home the night before. 

Sans’ cheekbone had been smooth and cool under her lips, and as soon as she’d touched him, she’d drawn back nervously. Unable to face him after her bold move, she had hurried off, hiding on the couch. Sans hadn’t come out to her, and the silence had both calmed and bothered her.

Shaking her head, Amalia pulled herself out of her thoughts once more to reach out to the pile just before her. Her hands caught the handles of a large, plastic box, and she pulled the faded toy oven to her. Carrying it over to the bank where her shoes sat, she placed it on the ground and sat down in front of the toy.

The yellow box was faded to a soft cream color, mottled in places, and all the stickers had peeled away, save for the remnants of corners bordered by a ragged tear. But the door still worked, and Amalia peered inside, knowing that she wouldn’t quite be able to tell if it worked or not. If it didn’t… perhaps some magic could help fix it. Sans and Papyrus might know what to do. 

Her decision made, Amalia closed the Easy-Bake oven and left it near her shoes to dry, before moving back into the water. The oven, if it could be fixed, would make a good present for Muffet, but Muffet was only one of the monsters who had changed Amalia's life. The others, like Gerson and Papyrus, she still needed to find gifts for. But as she lingered in front of the stacks, memories of the night before continued to intrude on her thoughts. 

Sans hadn't looked at her during dinner. He'd barely said anything to her. After a few minutes, Papyrus had begun to fill the silence, offering her observations about the various monsters in the area, and about the Underground itself. If she'd had more presence of mind, she would've wished for her notebook, but she was so distracted that his words washed over her, unheard and unnoticed. Eventually, he'd given up on engaging them, and the dinner had lapsed into full silence.

Amalia's shoulders hunched, her arms curling around herself as she turned away from one stack to look at another. She had to find something for Papyrus. He'd looked so sad last night, glancing back and forth between her and Sans. There had been honest worry in his eyes, and she'd been the one to put it there, whether Papyrus knew it or not. She owed him.

\-----

Hours later, Amalia rested on the bank of the dump. She felt rather accomplished, base don the small pile of treasures stacked near her shoes, but even though she had found gifts for nearly everyone, she lingered, hesitant to return to Snowdin. The thought of having to face Sans and possibly see the rejection on his face held her back, even as she told herself how much of a coward she was being. But somehow, she simply couldn't make herself get up, so she drifted, eyes closed and silent as she listened to the water lapping against the shore and the faint sound of footsteps getting closer. She willed the monster away, wanting to be alone in her thoughts, but the steps continued approaching until finally a quiet, familiar voice spoke up gently.

"That's quite a collection you've gathered, Amalia." Papyrus smiled as he lowered himself to sit beside her. Her eyes opened, but she didn't speak up. Papyrus waited for several quiet minutes, then sighed. "Should I assume you're not quite ready to takl about the situation just yet?" His question, asked so gently, brought all those feelings of rejection to the surface, and she sniffled despite her best attempts to keep the feelings buried. Immediately, the tall skeleton reached out, resting one hand on her shoulder with an awkward smile.

"I don't want to leave Snowdin," she finally whispered, then flinched. It wasn't a good opening, but at least she'd said something, and Papyrus wasn't interrupting her. He waited patiently for her to find more words, his hand not moving from it's comforting place on her shoulder. Laying there, with that tiny touch encouraging her, she found more words inside herself. "I know Sans probably hates me for assuming too much, but I don't want to leave you two. You're the closest thing I've had to a real family." She sniffled again and pushed herself to sit up, rubbing at her eyes as Papyrus' hand was dislodged.

"Sans doesn't hate you, Amalia," he reassured her, moving until he was sitting beside her. She looked up at him, caution deep in her eyes, and he nodded encouragingly. "It's true. He was very worried when you stopped talking to him, and I think his own silence has been more about giving you the space you need than about any unhappy feelings." Amalia shivered, and Papyrus reached out to curl one long arm around her, the bones settling against her shoulders so gently that she barely noticed. 

Slowly, the girl leaned against him, drawing comfort from Papyrus quietly enough that he continued to speak. "My brother considers you one of the most important people in his life, Amalia. I certainly never expected to hear that he had grown so fond of a human, and initially, I thought you must be fooling him somehow." Amalia flinched, and Papyrus hastened to continue, wanting her to understand. "It wasn't because of you, Amalia. The more I've come to know you, the more you've impressed me with your willingness to keep going, to keep trying. You don't want to hurt anyone, and you've proven that to me perfectly by now. What you haven't proven is what your intentions are for my brother." 

She flinched again, burying her face in her hands, and Papyrus sighed as he reached up to stroke his phalanges through her hair. "It's okay if you're not sure exactly what you want yet, Amalia," he began, his voice pitched to whisper-softness. "It's okay to take the time to figure things out, as long as you know you don't want to hurt him." The reassurance, pitched to be low and gentle, jerked Amalia out of her thoughts. She sputtered, staring up at Papyrus in shock, and he smiled. "You don't want to hurt him, human... right?"

"I would never hurt Sans, Papyrus," she exclaimed, twisting to stare at him determinedly. Papyrus smiled gently, nodding, and Amalia couldn't quite stop herself from continuing. "I love him." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she flinched, looking away. "I mean, I think I..."

"Good," Papyrus cut in, before her doubt could get very far. "Then tonight, while I am reporting to the king, you must be brave enough to talk to him. Can I trust you to do that, human?" Amalia swallowed anxiously, but nodded.

"I don't know what I can say, but I'll try," she promised, as Papyrus nodded approvingly.

"Then in return," he murmured, glancing over at the stack of gifts, "perhaps I can help you find anything you're missing." He got to his feet, reaching down to lift Amalia up as well, and chuckled at the blush that spread over her face. When she finally looked up at him, however, there was a smile on her lips, and an unfamiliar warmth in her eyes. 

"I'd like that, Papyrus," she whispered, reaching out to slide her hand into his. It wasn't anything like holding hands with Sans - Papyrus' hand was large and long, and the protective curl around hers was loose, but there was still a happiness behind the touch that relaxed her. "I'll talk to Sans tonight. I promise." She hesitated, looking over the dump, then smiled softly. "But while we look... would you tell me about the magic here? Sans told me a little, but it's just so...." She trailed off, but Papyrus nodded firmly.

"Of course, Amalia." And if she didn't understand why his smile grew warmer yet, he knew she would soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who's hanging on with me, I cannot tell you how much this means to me! I'm so glad you're still reading, and rest assured that I'm coming up with so much more information. I cannot wait to get farther along and see what you think about What's To Come!


	13. History in the Making, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus shares a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter and the next will be flashbacks. The italics represent what's happening currently, while normal text is the flashback. This is to make the chapter easier to read, since a full chapter of italics would have been uncomfortable and unwieldy.
> 
> There's more flashback coming because this chapter was originally going to include a bunch more, but as I looked at it, I realized the chapter was too full. So I've broken it into two chapters - thus the part 1 (and part 2 later).
> 
> I hope you enjoy. I've been excited about this chapter ever since I first plotted it out.

_Papyrus stepped into the water, then turned and held a hand out to Amalia to support her as she stepped down from the bank. It was an unnecessary gesture, and one he did without thinking, so when she frowned a little, he tilted his head. "Is something wrong?" he asked, and she waved one hand at his where it still hung in the air between them._

_"I can get down myself, you know," she pointed out, her cheeks pink and her eyes averted. "I was doing it all morning." She paused, trying to find the right words as he waited, silent and still. "You're not Sans. I mean," she started, her eyes widening and shooting up to stare at him nervously. He found himself laughing at the awkward words._

_"No, I'm not," he agreed, leaning forward to catch her hand where it was balled into a fist at her side. "I don't see you as he does, certainly. But that doesn't mean you have to do things alone." In his hand, hers flexed, then opened so her palm was resting against his bones, and her shoulders relaxed just a little. "You wanted to know about the magic of this place?" he asked, as she accepted his help and stepped down. She nodded._

_"Like this, it wasn't about doing things alone," he began, letting go of her hand as she made her way toward a stack. "We knew we had to work together to make the Underground a place we could thrive."_

_"Did it start with the ruins?" Amalia asked, her voice hesitant and soft. Papyrus cocked his head, then nodded slowly._

_"In a way," he murmured. "It started with the war."_

\---

He was scared, but with other, smaller monsters around, Papyrus knew that he couldn't show it. It didn't matter that the darkness was lit only by the pulsing light of the Barrier, or that the walls already felt like they were closing in on him. It didn't matter because there was another monster - a ghost whose stripes barely showed thanks to his transparency - who clung to the hem of his shirt. Papyrus wasn't an adult, but he was grown enough to know that he had to protect them all.

As Papyrus reached out, touching the denser air that made up the ghost's physical form, Asgore's voice rang out, carrying enough to quiet the crowd. "Monsters," he said, his voice a firm call to attention, and beside Papyrus, Sans straightened, one hand resting on Papyrus' shoulder while the other clenched into a fist at his side. The ghost child floated a little closer to Papyrus, the air chilling with the poor child's fear. "We must be brave." The king's words were firm and encouraging, and his eyes roamed over the gathering. "We are here. We are alive. There is still hope." 

The king's speech was underscored by a soft whimper against Papyrus' side, and he turned his attention away from Asgore to the ghost. "It's okay, Happstablook. I won't let anything happen to you." As he said it, Sans shot Papyrus a look, and Papyrus realized his brother's eyes were glowing a vivid orange. Papyrus stared up at Sans for a moment, and Sans finally looked away, his hand closing lightly against Papyrus' clavicle in comfort. Though Sans said nothing, Papyrus could read the promise contained within the gesture. Papyrus had promised to protect Happstablook, and Sans had promised to protect his brother. 

"As long as we are together, there is Hope," the king continued, and his queen stood beside him, holding a tiny bundle in her arms. Worry clouded her eyes, bright enough that Papyrus could see it from where he sat, but she remained tall and resolute. As he spoke, the king reached out, resting one massive paw against Toriel's shoulder, and she seemed to straighten just a little more from the touch. "As long as we work together, we can make this place a home." He raised his other paw and swept the air in front of him to include all the monsters assembled. "It will take time, but as long as we are together, we will find our way back to the Surface."

Silence greeted his words for a long minute, and when it finally broke, it was not Asgore who broke it. It was his uncle. Gaster strode forward, his thin frame wrapped in a black robe much the worse for wear from the raid that had pushed the monsters into the Underground. Papyrus half-expected his uncle, who he'd never seen less than perfectly groomed, to hide away, but Gaster had surprised him. "We require volunteers," he said, his voice clear and piercing, echoing off the walls of the massive cavern. "We require magic. With guidance and cooperation, we can make a home for every monster."

Papyrus pulled a little away from Happstablook, drawing a look of wide-eyed fear from the ghost, and then moved to rise. His clavicle hit against San's hand, and suddenly Sans was shoving him back down. As the ghost floated nearby, Papyrus looked up at his brother and was greeted with an eye-color he'd never seen in the glow of Sans' eyes. "Sans?" he whispered, trying to bury the fear in his voice so that he didn't scare Happstablook, but he didn't quite succeed. The ghost let out a faint whimper, and Papyrus' hands closed in frustration.

"Stay here," Sans muttered, staring at the king with eyes that glowed red. It was not a good look on Sans, but the sight of it held Papyrus still. After a few seconds, Sans moved forward, planting himself at the front of the crowd of monsters. Gaster's eyes slid over the monsters who had come forward, and Papyrus watched them linger on Sans briefly before moving on.

"This should be enough. Follow me," he directed, his voice clear and cool. Quiet murmurs of fear followed the direction as the monsters who had volunteered moved to follow Gaster, but the murmurs weren't from the volunteers. The noise rose from the crowd, echoing Papyrus' thoughts, though Papyrus held himself still. After a moment, the ghost floated to hover beside him, and Papyrus glanced over.

"I'm glad you're here," Happstablook admitted, his voice nearly as faint as his transparent body. Papyrus was pulled out of his frustration by the waver in the ghost's voice, and he looked down at the small child. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," Papyrus declared firmly, and the anger in his own voice scared him a little. But he buried his frustrations beneath his concern for the monster children slowly beginning to gather around him. He felt the glow settle in his eyes, and the way it flickered, and when one of the others shrank back from the bright gleam, he lifted his hand to his face.

Red and orange light, cast by the glow of his eyes, warmed the white of his bones.

\---

"So what're we doing?" Sans spoke up, his voice cool as he stood near Grillby. Next to the fire elemental, he felt every stripe he wore. His eyes were a steady red as he stared at his uncle, and Gaster stared right back at him with eyes as dark and calm as a pool of ink. That stare made Sans angrier, made his own eyes dim just a little, until he heard Papyrus' voice ring out over the murmurs of fear from the crowd to promise protection. The second his brother spoke, Sans straightened, his eyes flaring vividly.

"We're breaking the Barrier," Gaster said firmly, turning slowly to look at the monsters assembled. Sans' eyes widened, and he looked up at the glowing wall between the Underground and the Surface.

"I thought monster magic couldn't penetrate it," came a voice from the back of the group, and Gaster sniffed coldly, turning away even as one of his floating hands waved dismissively.

"The calculations are incomplete," he explained, drifting a little closer to the Barrier. Close to it, Sans could feel his bones crackle with the energy. The sensation was odd, rather like dust brushing against him, and he wrapped his arms around himself. That sensation made him want to run back to his brother, to run away, to hide from the grief that threatened to choke him as he thought of his parents. They weren't around anymore, so it fell to him to step forward. Warm fire rested against the top of his skull, and Sans looked up at Grillby for a breath before nodding. 

"So you don't know what's going to happen when our magic hits the Barrier," Sans translated. His frustration at his uncle shone in his words. Gaster looked over at him.

"We could do nothing, if you prefer, Sans?" he said instead, his voice more dismissive and cold than Sans had ever heard it. "That is more your style, is it not?" Sans flinched.

"Now is hardly the time to bicker." Grillby stepped forward, inserting himself between Sans and Gaster. The fire-crackle of his voice was shockingly neutral, but it was that very neutrality that calmed Sans. It didn't matter what his style really was. What mattered was that he had work to do, and he couldn't let the way his uncle was acting stop him from doing it.

"We're still doing this, then, huh?" he asked Grillby, and the fire elemental nodded. 

"Our people need hope, Sans. We can give it to them, if we're brave enough." His head cocked to one side, the fire of his face warming gently as he held out a hand to the skeleton. Sans drew a slow breath, then nodded and slipped his hand into Grillby's.

"You heard him," he said, looking back at the others, and they crowded closer. Even Gaster drifted toward the group, though he held himself a little away as one of his floating hands drifted closer, a bone hovering above the cupped palm. Sans nodded, adding a second bone just beside the first, and Grillby reached forward to set them both on fire. Slowly, other monsters also reached out, each bit of new magic curling around the two bones that had served as the foundation for the conglomeration.

When the final bit of magic had curled around the bones, Gaster looked at Sans before speaking up. His words were meant for the crowd, but the neutrality of them made Sans shiver a little. "Release your control to Sans and I. As the core, we will guide the magic to where it needs to go." He sounded so calm, so assured that they could do this, and Sans frowned. That confidence should've reassured him, but it didn't. Instead, a sick tremor floated through his soul, and it was the touch of Grillby's hand on his head that helped to steady him.

"Sans," Gaster continued, black eyes staring at Sans. "We will be piercing the same precise spot. My bone will lead. Yours must follow immediately, and land in exactly the same place. Are you prepared for this?"

Sans shuddered as he stared at those eyes, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah," he muttered, transferring his gaze to the bones. Gaster turned toward the Barrier, and Sans angled himself to do the same without moving from Grillby's side. 

Gaster brought his hand up, the floating one following suit, and abruptly jerked them forward toward the Barrier. Startled into action, Sans copied Gaster, his bone a half-second behind his uncle's, and following the first bone as precisely as he could manage. As the bones flew forward, the monsters held their breath, silent as all gazes watched the two magic-coated bones. 

The first struck the Barrier with a sound that felt like glass shattering across Sans' bones, and he gasped, stepping forward as though the smaller distance might allow him to put a little more power into his own attack. The Barrier shuddered over them, and the monsters started to cheer. And then the second attack hit.

Sans could feel the magic of the Barrier scraping across his bones like sandpaper. He screamed, pushing forward, and the Barrier shuddered again as a small hole opened where the bones had pierced. Cracks spread along the Barrier. Beside Sans, Gaster sucked in a soft breath, reaching out with one hand. "It's working," he whispered, as Sans' bone passed halfway through the Barrier, spreading the cracks further. "It's working..."

And then the cracks snapped back toward the hole, back towards the bone held within, and the bone shattered to dust. Sans cried out, his eyes wide and horribly dim as he saw the Barrier lash out. Light shot from the hole made by the bones, and Sans heard his brother's frightened cry as Papyrus darted closer. "PAP, NO!" he screamed in the second before the light hit his skull.

Everything went black.

\---

The first thing Papyrus heard after the thud of Sans falling to the ground was his own scream. He reached out for his brother, but before he could make it to Sans' side, someone else caught him and pulled him away, holding him with warm arms that wouldn't let go, so that all Papyrus could do was stare at the still form laying on the cavern floor. Papyrus clawed at the arms, pushing and twisting until he thought his spine might break, but they held him fast.

"LET ME GO!" he demanded, his eyes finally shifting from Sans' body to where their uncle stood a foot away. Gaster stared down at Sans for a long minute, his face unreadable and his eyes black as the void. Just as Papyrus started to calm down a tiny bit, Gaster turned away, and that was the final straw.

The bone that materialized in front of Papyrus wasn't big or sharp, but it was solid. He sent it hurling back toward himself, angled it just above his shoulder, and he felt the moment it hit the monster holding him. The warmth disappeared as the arms holding him back released him, and Papyrus shot forward, skidding to a halt beside Sans before looking at the monsters around them. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at his uncle, then the king, and spoke up. "Save him." It wasn't a request. It was a demand, as clear as he could manage with the fear clogging his soul, and he flinched away from the apology in the king's eyes. 

Asgore took a step forward, and Papyrus stood, stamping one foot as he planted himself between the king and Sans. "SAVE HIM!" Asgore opened his mouth to respond, and Papyrus growled sharply. The king didn't have to make a sound, because Papyrus could see his grief and sorrow all too clearly. But the person who responded wasn't the king.

"Papyrus," Grillby crackled softly, one hand reaching out to rest on Papyrus' skull. Papyrus jerked around to look at the elemental, and Grillby dropped to a knee in front of him. "The healers have no strength." 

"But..." Papyrus began, and Grillby stopped him with a shake of his head.

"Even the queen's magic is sapped," Grillby explained softly, getting to his feet as one hand moved to his injured shoulder. Papyrus whipped around to look at Grillby and his eyelights shrank to pinpoints as he realized what he'd done. Shards of bone still jutted from Grillby's shoulder, but the elemental ignored them in order to kneel down before Papyrus, facing the small skeleton. "But your brother is safe," Grillby promised, as Papyrus reached out one shaking phalanx to the injury he'd caused. "His soul is still strong. He'll wake up, don't worry." Before Papyrus could think about the bones for much longer, Grillby's fire heated, charring the bones in his shoulder to cinders that fluttered away when he moved.

Papyrus nodded weakly, only for his attention to be pulled away when the king began to speak again. "We must make new plans," he told Gaster and Toriel. "We cannot all live here." Silent, Papyrus watched Asgore, noting the way the king's shoulders slumped slightly and the way the queen held herself tall and strong even as weariness pulled at her lips. Listening to their conversation, Papyrus could hear the exhaustion both rulers bore without complaint. 

"This Underground is large," Gaster said, his voice so neutral that Papyrus' soul shuddered at the sound. "If we cannot leave, we must carve out a home for ourselves."

Slowly, Asgore turned, his eyes running over the refugees gathered before him. "A new home," he whispered, his voice ravaged with grief. Responding to the sound, Papyrus stepped forward.

"I'll help." He could hear the determination in his own voice. He could feel the way his eyes flared orange in their sockets. Asgore looked down at him, and Papyrus stared up at the king as though they were equals instead of a child and a monarch. When Asgore opened his mouth to refuse, Papyrus' eyes sharpened, and he reached down, grabbing the hem of his striped shirt and jerking it off in one smooth motion. "I. Will. Help." 

Asgore cleared his throat, glancing over the assembled monsters once more before looking back at Papyrus. "What can you do?" he asked, his voice gentle and fatherly in a way that ached. Bitterly, Papyrus squashed thoughts of his own father and focused on the question at hand as he turned to look at those around him.

"We need a source of clean water," he whispered finally, his eyes on the ghost child who'd clung to him before. "Not everyone does, but enough of us do to make it a priority." He nodded firmly, turning back to the king and willing the king to see him for who he was - Mistral's son, capable and clever. "We need places to live."

As Toriel caught her breath in a half-sob, Asgore's eyes warmed and saddened. "Yes," he agreed quietly, smiling at the small skeleton. "Your father would never forgive me if I ignored the needs of our people." Asgore hesitated, then held out his paw to Papyrus. Papyrus' hand was miniscule in Asgore's grip, but he held himself as tall as he could. 

"Since Dad isn't... isn't here, and Sans can't help, I will make us water. Perhaps some of the others who haven't used up all their magic can help to shape the Underground?" His voice, as tiny as he was, sounded odd in such formal speech, but he didn't care. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Gaster bit out, still turned away from Sans and Papyrus. Before Papyrus could do more than bristle, however, Grillby rose and moved to stand beside Papyrus.

"You don't want to finish that thought, Gaster," his fire crackled, fury banked within. "This child understands more about our situation than you do, and it's not because of your sister." Gaster sucked in a breath between his teeth, but Grillby ignored him as he turned to the king. "He knows what he's saying, Asgore. I don't know what Mistral taught him, but..."

"Go with him," Asgore directed, eyes focused on Grillby. "He may have need of your magic." One arm lifted, gesturing to the pool of water nearby, and Grillby nodded. Asgore looked down at Papyrus. "Your father was the head of my Royal Guard," he noted gently, and Papyrus nodded.

"I know," he said softly, fighting down the ache at the mention of his parents. "And Mom was one of your scientists," he added.

Asgore looked away, sadness in his eyes. "They were both exceptionally skilled. And it seems you will be, too." 

The pain of loss echoed in Asgore's voice, calling to the pain in Papyrus' own soul, and the child moved forward to gather Asgore's arm in a hug. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do, and Asgore shuddered at the touch. "You are definitely Mistral's son," he finally whispered, pain lacing his voice. "Go. Show Grillby what you need. I will find others to help me shape the areas of this new world." 

As Papyrus pulled back and turned away, Asgore spoke up one more time. "And Papyrus?" he murmured, calling the skeleton by his name for the first time. "Thank you."

\---

_Papyrus drew a breath, and Amalia looked up at him solemnly. "You've been protecting Sans for a long time, haven't you?" she asked, her voice very soft and strangely anxious._

_Papyrus blinked at the suggestion, tilting his head in thought for a beat before he nodded. "I suppose I have been, yes," he agreed softly. "We're very different, you see. Sans takes after our mother."_

_"And you take after your father?" Amalia guessed, moving away from the trash piles back toward the bank. When Papyrus realized where she was headed, he strode after her, reaching to catch her in his arms and deposit her on the bank. "...Was Grillby okay?"_

_Even though the words were very soft, Papyrus' eyelights dimmed to a dull grey. He sat down near the water, watching her as he nodded slowly. "He's never talked about what happened that day," he admitted. "But I think sometimes he feels that wound, even now. Our bodies aren't like yours, after all."_

_"How do you mean?" Amalia asked, dropping down to sit beside him. He didn't withdraw from her, so she reached out to catch his hand in hers, and simply held it. The smile she offered him was sad and brave, and Papyrus reached out with his free hand to pat her head gently._

_"Our bodies are made of magic. Any ill intent will damage them permanently," he explained softly._

_"But you would never...," she started to interrupt, and he shook his head sharply._

_"There's no such thing as never," he countered. "I was angry that day. I hurt Grillby without knowing who he was or what he was doing. The only thing I can do is make up for it every day of my life." When she flinched, he stroked her hair and smiled warmly at her. "It's not so bad, Amalia. I learned how to protect everyone. I will always protect everyone."_

_"No wonder you hated me," she whispered, guilt clouding her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her hands._

_"I never hated you," Papyrus countered. "I was unsure of you. I didn't trust you, Amalia," he admitted, his hand turning in hers so that he could grip one of her hands. "But I do now." Her eyes, wide as she absorbed the admission, climbed back to meet his, and he cocked his head to one side. "Of course, there's more to the story..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a special shout-out to two people who talked me through my self-doubts when I started this chapter. During the last week or so, there's been a lot of fear and frustration around, and I've personally been dealing with some very dark thoughts and feelings. My [tumblr](http://thegreatwordologist.tumblr.com/) dash has been full of positivity and warmth, however, and these two have helped me to write when I didn't feel able to.
> 
> [Rubbishbin-Trash](http://rubbishbin--trash.tumblr.com/) is a new friend whose excitement about the story thrilled me and whose tumblr is full of positivity and warmth.
> 
> [Lavendar-chan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_chan/pseuds/Lavender_chan) is an exceptional writer here on AO3 whose tumblr is filled with fun fandom and lovely positivity. 
> 
> Tumblr allowed me the chance to get to know both of these people a little better, and I am very happy and honored to say that they are my friends. I would say take some time to check both of them out! They're lovely!
> 
> \---
> 
> Finally, this chapter starts to reveal some of what I consider the more esoteric of my headcanons for this series. If you have any questions about them or want to say something about the series somewhere other than AO3, you're welcome to contact me through the [ColorTales Tumblr](http://colortales.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a single story, and after a lot of brainstorming, became a couple of stories. And then it was several, and now there's talk of interim vignettes because this universe is getting SO OUT OF CONTROL. 
> 
> Most of the stories in the series will be taking place after the series, but this explains a lot of the headcanon used throughout the rest of the series. As I noted at the beginning, I have a tumblr specifically for asks, but if you would like to simply get to know me, you're welcome to find my tumblr ([The Great Wordologist](http://thegreatwordologist.tumblr.com/)). I'm shy, but I'd love to meet new people and make friends in this fantastic fandom. Please feel free to say hi!


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